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TWO     ON    A    TOWER 


A  NOVEL 


BY 


THOMAS    HARDY 

Atcthor  of  "Far  from  tJte  i\Iadding   Crowd^'' 
''A  Pair  of  Blue  Eyes,''  etc. 


NEW  YORK 
HOVENDON     COMPANY 

17   AND    19   WAVERLEY   PLACE 


rl 


V 


TWO   ON  A  TOWER. 


"•lOOi.— 


CHAPTER   I. 

(~\>^  an  early  winter  afternoon,  clear  but  not  cold,  when 
^-^  the  vegetable  world  was  a  weird  multitude  of  skele- 
tons through  whose  ribs  the  sun  shone  freely,  a  gleaming 
landau  came  to  a  pause  on  the  crest  of  a  hill  in  Wessex. 
The  spot  was  where  the  old  Melchester  road,  which  the 
carriage  had  hitherto  followed,  was  joined  by  a  drive  that 
led  round  into  a  park  at  no  great  distance  off.  The  foot- 
man alighted,  and  went  to  the  occupant  of  the  carriage, 
a  lady  of  about  six  and  twenty.  She  was  looking  through 
the  opening  afforded  by  a  field-gate  at  the  undulating 
stretch  of  country  beyond.  In  pursuance  of  some  remark 
from  her,  the  servant  looked  in  the  same  direction. 

The  central  feature  of  the  middle  distance,  as  they  be- 
held it,  was  a  circular,  isolated  hill,  of  no  great  elevation, 
which  placed  itself  in  strong  chromatic  contrast  with  a  wide 
acreage  of  surrounding  arable,  by  being  covered  with  fir- 
trees.  The  trees  were  all  of  one  size  and  age,  so  that  their 
tips  assumed  the  precise  curve  of  the  hill  they  grew  upon. 
This  pine-clad   protuberance  was  yet  further  marked  out 


2  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

from  the  general  landscape  by  having  on  its  summit  a 
tower  in  the  form  of  a  classical  column,  which,  though 
partly  immersed  in  the  plantation,  rose  above  the  tree- 
tops  to  a  considerable  height.  Upon  this  object  the  eyes 
of  lady  and  servant  were  bent. 

"Then  there  is  no  road  leading  near  it.?"  she  asked. 

"Nothing  nearer  than  where  we  are  now,  my  lady." 

"Oh!  Then  drive  home."  And  the  carriage  rolled 
on  its  way. 

A  few  da}-s  later,  the  same  lady,  in  the  same  carriage, 
passed  that  spot  again.  Her  eyes,  as  before,  turned  to 
the  distant  tower. 

"Nobbs,"she  said,  "could  you  find  your  way  home 
through  that  field,  so  as  to  get  near  the  outskirts  of  the 
plantation  .? " 

The  coachman  regarded  the  field.  "Well,  my  lady, " 
he  observed,  "in  dry  weather  we  might  drive  in  there, 
and  so  get  across  by  Five-and-Twenty  Acres,  all  being 
well.  But  the  valler  ground  is  so  heavy  after  these  rains 
that — perhaps  it  would  hardly  be  safe  to  try  it  now." 

"  Perhaos  not, "  she  assented  indifferentlv.  "  Remem- 
ber  it,  will  you,  at  a  drier  time.?  "  And  again  the  carriage 
sped  along  the  road,  the  lady's  eyes  resting  on  the  seg- 
mental hill,  the  blue  trees  that  muffled  it,  and  the  column 
that  formed  its  apex,  till  they  were  out  of  sight. 

A  long  time  elapsed  before  that  lady  drove  over  the  hill 
again.  It  was  February;  the  soil  was  now  unquestionabl) 
dry,  the  weather  and  scene  being  in  other  respects  much 
a.s  they  had  been  before.  The  familiar  shape  of  the  col- 
umn .seemed  to  remind  her  that  at  last  an  opportunity  for 
a  close  inspection  had  arrived.      Giving  her  directions,  sho 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  3 

saw  the  gate  opened,  and  after  a  little  manoeuvring  the  car- 
riage swayed  slowly  into  the  uneven  fieltl.  Although  the 
pillar  stood  upon  the  hereditary  estate  of  her  husband,  the 
ladv  had  never  visited  it,  owing  to  its  insulation  by  this 
well-nigh  impracticable  ground.  The  drive  to  the  base  of 
the  hill  \vas  tedious  and  jerky,  and  on  reaching  it  she 
llighted,  directing  that  the  carriage  should  be  driven  back 
empty  over  the  clods,  to  wait  for  her  on  the  nearest  edge 
of  the  field.     She  then  ascended  beneath  the  trees  on  foot. 

The  column  now  showed  itself  as  a  much  more  impor- 
tant erection  than  it  had  appeared  from  the  road,  or  the 
park,  or  the  windows  of  Wclland  House,  her  residence 
hard  by,  whence  she  had  surveyed  it  hundreds  of  times 
without  ever  feeling  a  sufficient  mterest  in  its  details  to  in- 
vestigate them.  The  column  had  been  erected  in  the  last 
century,  as  a  substantial  memorial  of  her  husbands  great- 
grandfather, a  respectable  officer  who  had  fallen  in  the 
American  war,  and  the  reason  of  her  lack  of  interest  was 
partly  owing  to  her  relations  with  this  husband,  of  which 
more  anon.  It  was  little  more  than  the  sheer  desire  for 
something  to  do— the  chronic  desire  of  her  curiously  lonely 
life — that  had  brought  her  here  now.  She  was  in  a  mood 
to  welcome  anything  that  would  in  some  measure  disperse 
an  almost  killing  ennui.  She  would  have  welcomed  even  a 
misfortune.  She  had  heard  that  from  the  summit  of  the 
■)!llar  three  counties  could  be  seen.  Whatever  pleasurable 
eflect  was  to  be  derived  from  looking  into  three  counties 
at  the  same  tim^  she  would  enjoy  to-day. 

The  fir-shrouded  hill-top  turned  out  to  be  an  old  Ro- 
man camp, — -if  it  were  not  an  old  British  castle,  or  an  on'' 
Saxon  field  of  Witenagernote, — witli  remains  of  an  out 


4  TfVO    ON   A     TOWER. 

and  an  inner  vallum,  a  winding  path  leading  up  between 
their  overlapping  ends  by  an  easy  ascent.  The  spikelets 
from  the  trees  formed  a  soft  carpet  over  the  route,  and  oc- 
casionally a  brake  of  brambles  barred  the  interspaces  of  the 
trunks.  Soon  she  stood  immediately  at  the  foot  of  the 
column. 

I*  had  been  built  in  the  Tuscan  order  of  architecture, 
4nd  was  really  a  tower,  being  hollow,  with  steps  inside. 
The  gloom  and  solitude  which  prevailed  round  the  base 
were  remarkable.  The  sob  of  the  environing  trees  was 
here  expressively  manifest,  and  as,  m  the  light  breeze,  their 
thin,  straight  stems  rocked  in  seconds,  like  inverted  pen- 
dulums, some  boughs  and  twigs  rubbed  the  pillar's  sides, 
or  occasionally  clicked  in  catching  each  other.  Below 
the  level  of  their  summits  the  masonry  was  lichen- 
stained  and  mildewed,  for  the  sun  never  pierced  that 
moaning  clgud  of  blue-black  vegetation;  pads  of  moss 
grew  in  the  joints  of  the  stone-work,  and  here  and  there 
shade-loving  insects  had  engraved  on  the  mortar  patterns 
of  no  human  st3'le  or  meaning,  but  curious  and  suggestive. 
Above  the  trees  the  case  was  different:  the  pillar  rose  into 
the  sky  a  bright  and  cheerful  thing,  unimpeded,  clean,  and 
flushed  with  the  sunlight. 

The  spot  was  seldom  visited  by  a  pedestrian,  e.xcept  per- 
haj)s  in  the  shooting  season.  The  rarity  of  human  intru- 
sion was  evidenced  by  the  mazes  of  rabbit-runs,  the  feathers 
^f  :;hy  birds,  the  exuvice  of  reptiles;  as  also  by  the  fresli 
an  I  uninterrupted  paths  of  squirrels  down  the  sides  of 
trunks,  and  thence  horizontally  away.  The  circumstance 
of  the  plantiition  being  an  Lsland  in  the  midst  of  an  arable 
plain  sufficiently  accounted  for  this  lack  of  visitors.      Few 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  5 

unaccustomed  to  such  places  can  be  aware  of  the  insula- 
ting effect  of  plowed  ground,  when  no  necessity  compels 
jieople  to  traverse  it.  This  rotund  hill  of  trees  and  bram- 
bles, standing  in  the  center  of  a  plowed  field  of  some 
ninety  or  a  hundred  acres,  was  probably  visited  less  fre- 
quently than  a  rock  would  have  been  visited  in  a  lake  of 
c<]iial  extent. 

She  walked  round  the  column  to  the  other  side,  where 
lih'j  found  the  door  through  which  the  interior  was  reached. 
'I'hc  paint,  if  it  had  ever  had  any,  was  all  washed  from  its 
fixcc,  and  down  the  decaying  surface  of  the  boards  liquid 
rust  from  the  nails  and  hinges  had  run  in  red  stains.  Over 
the  door  was  a  stone  tablet,  bearing,  apparently,  letters  or 
words;  but  the  inscription,  whatever  it  was,  had  been 
smoothed  over  with  a  plaster  of  lichen. 

Here  stood  this  aspiring  piece  of  masonry,  erected  a? 
the  most  conspicuous  and  ineffaceable  reminder  of  a  man 
that  could  be  thought  of;  and  yet  the  whole  aspect  of  the 
memorial  betokened  forgetfulness.  Probably  not  a  dozen 
people  wilhin  the  district  knew  the  name  of  the  person 
commemorated,  while  perhaps  not  a  soul  remembered 
whether  the  column  was  hollow  or  solid,  whether  with  or 
without  a  tablet  and  a  door.  She  herself  had  lived  within 
a  mile  of  it  for  the  last  five  years,  and  had  never  come 
near  it  till  now. 

She  had  no  intention  of  ascending,  but  finding  that  the 
door  was  not  fastened  she  pushed  it  open  with  her  foot, 
and  entered.  A  scrap  of  writing-paper  lay  within,  and  ar- 
rested her  attention  by  its  freshness.  Some  human  being, 
then,  knew  the  spot,  despite  her  surmises.  But  as  the 
paper  had  u^diing  on  it,  no  clew  was  afforded;  yet,  feel- 


6  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

ing  herself  the  proprietor  of  the  column  and  of  all  around 
it,  her  self-assertiveness  was  sufficient  to  lead  her  on.  The 
staircase  was  lighted  by  slits  in  the  wall,  and  there  was  no 
difficulty  in  reaching  the  top,  the  steps  being  quite  un- 
ft^orn.  The  trap  door  giving  on  to  the  roof  was  open,  and 
on  looking  through  it  an  interesting  spectacle  met  her 
eye. 

A  youth  was  sitting  on  a  stool  in  the  center  of  the  lead 
flat  which  formed  the  summit  of  the  column,  his  eye  being 
applied  to  the  end  of  a  large  telescope  that  stood  before 
him  on  a  tripod.  This  sort  of  presence  was  unexpected, 
and  the  lady  started  back  into  the  shade  of  the  opening. 
The  only  effect  produced  upon  him  by  her  footfall  was  an 
impatient  wave  of  the  hand,  without  removing  his  eye 
from  the  instrument,  as  if  to  forbid  her  or  anybody  inter- 
rupting him. 

Pausing  where  she  stood,  the  lady  examined  the  aspect 
of  the  individual  who  thus  made  himself  so  completely  at 
home  on  a  building  which  she  deemed  her  unquestioned 
property.  He  was  a  youth  who  might  properly  have  been 
characterized  by  a  word  which  the  judicious  chronicler  would 
not  readily  use  in  such  a  connection,  preferring  to  reserve 
it  for  raising  images  of  the  opposite  sex.  Whether  because 
no  deep  felicity  is  likely  to  arise  from  the  circumstance,  or 
fiom  any  other  reason,  to  say  in  these  days  that  a  youth  is 
beautiful  is  not  to  award  him  that  amount  of  credit  which 
the  expression  would  have  carried  with  it  if  he  had  lived  in 
the  times  of  the  Classical  Dictionary.  So  much,  indeed, 
is  the  reverse  the  case  that  the  assertion  creates  an  awk- 
w.irdness  in  saying  anything  more  about  him.  The  beau- 
t^fui  y. luth  usually  verges  so  perilously  on  the  incipient 


TIVO    OiV  A    TOWER.  J 

coxcomb,  who  is  about  to  become  the  Lothario  or  Juan 
among  the  neighboring  maidens,  that,  for  the  due  under- 
standing of  our  present  joung  man,  his  sublime  innocence 
of  any  thought  concerning  his  own  material  aspect,  or  tha* 
of  others,  is  most  fervently  asserted,  and  must  be  as  fer- 
vently believed. 

Such  as  he  was,  there  the  lad  stood  The  sun  shone 
full  in  his  face,  and  his  hat  was  pushed  aside  for  conven- 
ience, disclosing  a  curly  head  of  very  light,  shining  hair, 
which  accorded  well  with  the  flush  upon  his  cheek.  He 
had  such  a  complexion  as  that  with  which  Raphael  en- 
riches the  countenance  of  the  youthful  son  of  Zacharias, 
— a  complexion  which,  though  clear,  is  far  enough  re- 
moved from  virgin  delicacy,  and  suggests  plenty  of  sun 
and  wind  as  its  accompaniment.  His  features  were  suf- 
ficiently straight  in  the  contours  to  correct  the  behold- 
er's first  impression  that  the  head  was  the  head  of  a  girl. 
Beside  him  stood  a  little  oak  table,  and  in  front  was  the 
tel -Scope. 

His  visitor  had  ample  time  to  make  these  observations; 
and  she  may  have  done  so  all  the  more  keenly  through 
being  herself  of  a  totally  opposite  type.  Her  hair  was 
black  as  midnight,  her  eyes  had  no  less  deep  a  shade,  and 
her  complexion  showed  the  richness  demanded  as  a  sup 
port  to  these  decided  features.  As  she  continued  to  look 
at  the  pretty  fellow  before  her,  apparently  so  far  abstracted 
into  some  speculative  world  as  scarcely  to  need  a  real  one, 
a  warmer  wase  of  her  warm  temperament  glowed  visibly 
through  her,  and  a  qualified  observer  might  from  this  have 
hazarded  a  guess  that  there  was  Southern  blood,  in  her 
veins. 


8  TIVO    Oy  A    TOWER. 

But  even  the  interest  attaching  to  the  youth  could  not 
arrest  her  attention  forever,  and  as  he  made  no  further 
signs  of  moving  his  eye  from  the  instrument  she  broke 
the  silence  with  "  What  do  you  see  ? — something  happen 
ing  somewhere  ? " 

"Yes,  quite  a  catastrophe,"  he  automatically  murmured, 
without  moving  round. 

"What?" 

"A  cyclone  in  the  sun." 

The  lady  paused  as  if  to  consider  the  doubtful  weight 
of  that  event  in  the  scale  of  terrene  life.  "Will  it  make 
anv  difference  to  us,  here.'  "  she  asked. 

The  young  man  by  this  time  seemed  to  be  awakened  to 
the  consciousness  that  somebody  unusual  was  talking  to 
him,  and  he  turned. 

"  1  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  I  thought  it  was  my 
relative  come  to  look  after  me.  She  often  comes  about 
this  time." 

He  continued  to  look  at  her  and  forget  the  sun,  just 
such  a  reciprocity  of  influence  as  might  have  been  expected 
between  a  dark  lady  and  a  flaxen-haired  youth  making 
itself  apparent  in  the  faces  of  each. 

"Don't  let  me  interrupt  your  observations,"  said  she. 

"Ah,  no,"  said  he,  again  applying  his  eye;  where jpon 
..is  face  lost  the  animation  which  her  presence  had  lent  ii, 
and  became  immutable  as  that  of  a  bust,  though  super- 
adding to  the  serenity  of  repose,  the  sensitiveness  of  life. 
The  expression  that  settled  on  him  was  one  of  awe.  Not 
unaptly  might  it  have  been  said  that  he  was  worshiping 
the  sun.  Among  the  various  intensities  of  that  worship 
which  have  prevailed  since  the  first  intelligent  being  saw 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  (^ 

the  luminary  decline  westward,  as  the  young  man  now 
beheld  it  doing,  his  was  not  the  weakest.  He  was  en- 
gaged in  what  may  be  called  a  very  chastened  or  schooled 
■or^a  of  that  first  and  most  natural  of  adorations. 

■■]5ut  would  }ou  like  to  see  it.^"  he  recommenced. 
"It  is  an  event  that  is  v.itnessed  only  about  once  in  two 
.)r  three  years,  though  it  may  occur  often  enough." 

She  assented,  and  looked,  and  saw  a  whirling  mass,  in 
the  center  of  which  the  fiery  globe  seemed  to  be  laid 
bare  to  its  core.  It  was  a  peep  into  a  maelstrom  of 
lire,  taking  place  where  nobody  had  ever  been  or  ever 
would  be. 

"It  is  the  strangest  thing  I  ever  beheld,"  she  said. 
Then  he  looked  again;  and,  wondering  who  her  compan- 
ion could  be,  she  asked,  "Are  you  often  here.'  " 

"  ICvery  night  when  it  is  not  cloudy,  and  often  in  the 
day.  ■■ 

"Ah,  n'ght,  of  course.  The  heavens  must  be  beauti- 
ful f  om  this  point." 

"  1  hey  are  rather  more  than  that." 

"Indeed  !  Have  you  entirely  taken  possession  of  this 
column .'  " 

"Entirely." 

■'  But  it  is  my  column,"  she  said,  with  smiling  asperity. 

"Then  are  you  Lady  Constantine,  wife  of  the  absent 
Sir  Blount  Constantine.-'" 

"  I  am  Lady  Constantine." 

"  .Ml,  then  I  agree  that  it  is  yours.  But  will  you  allow 
ma  to  rent  it  of  you  for  a  time,  Lady  Constantine.'  " 

'•  You  have  taken  it,  whether  I  allow  it  or  not.  IT)W- 
ev.r,  in  the  interests  of  science  it  is  advisable  that  you  con- 


lO  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

tinue   your   tenancy.     Nobody   knows  you   are   here,    I 

suppose  ? " 

' '  Hardly  anybody. " 

Me  then  took  her  down  a  few  steps  into  the  interior, 
uid  showed  her  some  ingenious  contrivances  for  stowing 
iirticles  away.  "  Nobody  ever  comes  near  the  column, — 
or,  as  it's  called  here,  Rings-Hill  Speer, "  he  continued; 
"and  when  I  first  came  up  it  nobody  had  been  here  for 
thirty  or  forty  years.  The  staircase  was  choked  with  daws' 
nests  and  feathers,  but  I  cleared  them  out." 

"  I  understood  the  column  was  always  kept  locked  .?  " 

"Yes,  it  has  been  so.  When  it  was  built,  in  1782,  the 
key  was  given  to  m\-  great-grandfather,  to  keep  by  him  in 
case  visitors  should  happen  to  want  it.  He  lived  just 
down  there  where  I  live  now. "  He  denoted  by  a  nod  a 
little  dell  lying  immediately  beyond  the  plowed  land  which 
environed  them.  "  He  kept  it  in  his  bureau,  and  as  the 
bureau  descended  to  my  grandflither,  my  mother,  and 
m}'self,  the  key  descended  with  it.  After  the  first  thirty 
or  forty  years,  nobody  ever  asked  for  it.  One  day  I  saw 
it,  lying  rusty  in  its  niche,  ark  J,  finding  that  it  belonged 
to  this  column,  I  took  it  and  came  up.  I  stayed  here  till 
it  was  dark,  and  the  stars  came  out,  and  that  night  I  re- 
solved to  be  an  astronomer.  I  came  back  here  from 
J  .lioul  three  months  ago,  and  I  mean  to  be  an  astronomer 
still.'  He  lowered  his  voice.  "I  aim  at  nothing  less 
thin  the  dignity  and  office  of  Astronomer-Royal,  if  I  live. 
Perhaps  I  shall  not  live." 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  suppose  that.     How  long 
are  you  going  to  make  this  your  observatory  ^  " 

"About  a  year, — -till  I  have  obt-tined  a  practical  famil- 


Tiro    ON  A    TOWER.  II 

iarity  with  the  heavens.  Ah,  if  I  only  had  a  good  equa- 
torial ! '' 

"What  is  that?" 

"A  proper  instrument  for  my  pursuit.  But  time  is 
short,  and  science  is  infinite, — how  infinite  only  those  who 
study  astronomy  fully  realize, — and  perhaps  I  shall  be  worn 
out  before  I  make  my  mark." 

She  seemed  to  be  greatly  struck  with  the  odd  mixture 
in  him  of  scientific  earnestness  and  melancholy  mistrust  of 
all  things  human.  Perhaps  it  was  owing  to  the  nature  of 
his  studies.  "You  are  often  on  this  tower  alone  at  night.' " 
she  said. 

"Yes;  at  this  time  of  the  year  particularly,  and  while 
there  is  no  moon.  I  observe  from  seven  or  eight  till  about 
two  in  the  morning,  with  a  view  to  my  great  work  on  va- 
riable stars.  But  with  such  a  telescope  as  this — well,  I 
must  put  up  with  it !  " 

"Can  you  see  Saturn's  ring  and  Jupiter's  moons.' " 

He  said  dryly  that  he  could  manage  to  do  that,  not 
without  some  contempt  for  the  state  of  her  knowledge. 

"I  have  never  seen  any  planet  or  star  through  a 
telescope." 

"If  you  will  come  the  first  clear  night,  Lady  Con- 
stantine,  I  will  show  you  any  number.  I  mean,  at  youi 
express  wish;  not  otherwise." 

"I  should  like  to  come,  and  possibly  may  at  some 
time.  These  stars  that  vary  so  much — sometimes  even- 
ing stars,  sometimes  morning  stars,  sometimes  in  the 
east,  and  sometimes  in  the  west, — have  always  interested 
me. 

* '  Ah — now  there  is  a  reason  for  your  not  coming.     Your 


12  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

ignorance  of  the  realities  of  astronomy  is  so  satisfactory  that 
I  will  not  disturb  it  except  at  your  serious  request." 

"But  I  wish  to  be  enlightened." 

"  Let  me  caution  you  against  it." 

"Is  enlightenment  on   iie  subject,  then,  so  terrible?' 

"Yes,  indeed." 

She  laughingly  declared  that  nothing  could  have  so 
piqued  her  curiosity  as  his  statement,  and  turned  to  de' 
scend.  He  helped  her  down  the  stairs  and  through  the 
briers.  He  would  have  gone  further,  and  crossed  the  open 
corn-land  with  her,  but  she  preferred  to  go  alone.  He 
then  retraced  his  way  to  the  top  of  the  column,  but,  in- 
stead of  looking  longer  at  the  sun,  watched  her  diminish- 
ing towards  the  distant  fence,  behind  which  waited  the 
carriage.  When  in  the  midst  of  the  field,  a  dark  spot  on 
an  area  of  brown,  there  crossed  her  path  a  moving  figure, 
whom  it  was  as  difficult  to  distinguish  from  the  earth  he 
trod  as  the  caterpillar  from  its  leaf,  by  reason  of  the  excel- 
lent match  between  his  clothes  and  the  clods.  He  was 
one  of  a  dying-out  generation  who  retained  the  principle, 
nearly  unlearnt  now,  that  a  man's  habiliments  should  be 
in  harmony  with  his  environment.  Lady  Constantine  and 
this  figure  halted  beside  each  other  for  some  minutes;  then 
they  went  on  their  several  ways. 

The  brown  person  wat  a  laboring  man  known  to  the 
world  of  Welland  as  PLiymoss  (the  "worn"  form  of  the 
word  Amos,  to  adopt  the  phrase  of  philologists).  The 
reason  of  the  halt  had  been  the  following  dialogue: — 

Lady  Constantine :  "Who  is  that.'     Amos  Fry,  I  think." 

Haymoss:  "Yes,  my  lady;  a  homely  barley  driller,  born 
under  the  very  eavesdroppings  of  your  ladyship's  smallest 


TWO    ON  A    7'OWRR.  1 3 

outbuildings,    in  a   manner   of  speaking,— though    your 
ladyship  was  neither  born  nor  'tempted  at  that  time." 

LadyC:  "Who  lives  in  the  old  house  behind  the 
plantation  ?  " 

H.:  "  Old  Gammer  Martin,  my  lady,  and  her  grand- 
son. 

Lady  C:  "  He  has  neither  father  nor  mother,  then?" 

H. :  "  Not  a  single  one,  my  lady." 

Lady  C. :  "Where  was  he  educated  ?  " 

II. :  "At  Warborne, — a  place  where  they  draw  up  young 
gam'sters'  brains  like  rhubarb  under  a  ninepenny  pan,  my 
lady,  excusing  my  common  way.  They  hit  so  much  lam- 
ing into  en  that  'a  could  talk  like  the  day  of  Pentecost; 
which  is  a  wonderful  thing  for  a  simple  boy,  and  his  moth- 
er only  the  plainest  ciphering  woman  in  the  world.  War- 
borne  Grammar  School — that's  where  't  was  'a  went  to. 
His  father,  the  reverent  Pa'son  St.  Cleeve,  made  a  terrible 
bruckle  hit  in  's  marrying,  in  the  sight  of  the  high.  He 
were  the  curate  here,  my  lady,  for  a  length  o'  time. " 

Lad}'  C. :  "  Oh,  curate.  It  was  before  I  knew  the  vil- 
lage." 

H. :  "Ay,  long  and  merry  ago  !  And  he  married  Farm- 
er- Martin's  daughter, — Giles  Martin,  a  limberish  man, 
who  used  to  go  rather  bad  upon  his  lags,  if  you  can  mind. 
I  knowed  the  man  well  enough:  who  should  know  en 
better  !  The  maid  was  a  poor  windling  thing,  and,  though 
a  playward  piece  o'  flesh  when  he  married  her,  'a  socked 
and  sighed,  and  went  out  like  a  snoff.  Well,  when 
Pa'son  St.  Cleeve  married  this  homespun  woman  the 
toppermost  folk  wouldn't  speak  to  his  wife.  Then  he 
dro])po(l  a  cuss  or  two,  and  said  he'd  no  lontrer  ge'   his 


14  TfVO    ON-  A    TOWER. 

living  by  curing  their  twopenny  souls  o'  such  damn  non- 
sense as  that  (excusing  my  common  way),  and  he  took  to 
farming  straightway,  and  then  'a  dropped  down  dead  in 
a  nor'west  thunder-storm;  it  being  said — hee-hee  ! — that 
Master  God  was  in  tantrums  wi"  en  for  leaving  his  service, 
— hee-hee  !  I  give  the  story  as  I  heard  it,  my  lady,  buf 
be  dazed  if  I  believe  in  such  trumpery  behavior  of  the 
fokes  in  the  sky,  nor  anything  else  that's  said  about  'em. 
Well,  Swithin,  the  boy,  was  sent  to  the  grammar  school, 
as  I  say  for;  but  what  with  having  two  stations  of  life  in 
his  blood,  he's  good  for  nothing,  my  lady.  He  mopes 
about, — sometimes  here,  and  sometimes  there;  nobody 
troubles  about  en. " 

Lady  Constantine  thanked  her  informant,  and  proceeded 
onward.  To  her,  as  a  woman,  the  most  curious  feature 
in  the  afternoon's  incident  was  that  this  lad,  of  striking 
beauty,  scientific  attainments,  and  cultured  bearing,  should 
be  linked,  on  the  maternal  side,  with  a  local  agricultural 
family,  through  his  father's  matrimonial  eccentricity.  A 
more  attractive  feature  in  the  case  was  that  the  same  youth, 
so  capable  of  being  ruined  by  flattery,  blandishment,  pleas- 
ure, even  gross  prosperity,  should  be  at  present  living  on 
in  a  primitive  Eden  of  unconsciousness,  with  aims  towards 
whose  accomplishment  a  Caliban  shape  would  have  been 
as  effective  as  his  own. 


CHAPTER   II. 

OWITHIN  ST.  CLEEVE  lingered  on  at  his  post,  until 
^^  the  more  sanguine  birds  of  the  plantation,  already 
recovering  from  their  midwinter  consternation,  piped  a 
short  evening  hymn  to  the  vanishing  sun.  The  landscape 
was  gently  concave;  with  the  exception  of  tower  and  hill, 
there  were  no  points  on  which  late  rays  might  linger;  and 
hence  the  dish-shaped  ninety  acres  of  tilled  land  assumed 
a  uniform  hue  of  shade  quite  suddenly.  The  one  or  two 
stars  that  appeared  were  quickly  clouded  over,  and  it  was 
soon  obvious  that  there  would  be  no  sweeping  the  heaven? 
that  night.  After  tying  a  piece  of  tarpaulin,  which  hacJ 
once  seen  service  on  his  maternal  grandfather's  farm,  over 
all  the  apparatus  around  him,  he  went  down  the  stairs  in 
the  dark,  and  locked  the  door.  With  the  key  in  his 
pocket,  he  descended  through  the  underwood  on  the  side 
of  the  slope  opposite  to  that  trodden  by  Lady  Constantine, 
ind  crossed  the  field  in  a  line  mathematically  straight,  and 
in  a  manner  that  left  no  traces,  by  keeping  in  the  same 
furrow  all  the  way  on  tiptoe.  In  a  few  minutes  he  reached 
a  little  dell,  which  occurred  quite  unexpectedly  on  the 
other  side  of  the  field-fence,  and  descended  to  a  venerable 


i6  TWO  ON  A   TOWER. 

thatched  house,  whose  enormous  roof,  broken  up  by  dor- 
mers as  big  as  haycocks,  could  be  seen  even  in  ihe  twi- 
light. Over  the  white  walls,  built  of  chalk  in  the  lump, 
outlines  of  creepers  formed  dark  patterns,  as  if  drawn  in 
charcoal. 

Inside  the  house  his  maternal  grandmother  w?.s  sitting 
by  a  wood  fire.  Before  it  stood  a  pipkin,  in  which  some- 
ihing  was  evidently  kept  warm.  An  eight-legged  oak 
table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  was  laid  for  a  meal. 
This  woman  of  eighty-three,  in  a  large  mob  cap,  under 
which  she  wore  a  little  cap  to  keep  the  other  clean,  re- 
tained faculties  but  little  blunted.  She  sat  looking  into 
the  fire,  with  her  hands  upon  her  knees,  quietly  re-enact- 
ing in  her  brain  certain  of  the  long  chain  of  episodes,  pa- 
thetic, tragical,  and  humorous,  which  had  constituted  the 
parish  history  for  the  last  sixty  years.  On  Swithin's  entry 
she  looked  up  at  him  in  a  sideway  direction. 

"You  should  not  have  waited  for  me,  granny,"  he  said. 

"  'Tis  of  no  account,  my  child.  I've  had  a  nap  while 
sitting  here.  Yes,  I've  had  a  nap,  and  was  up  in  my  old 
country  again,  as  usual.  The  place  was  as  natural  as  when 
I  left  it — e'en  just  threescore  years  ago.  All  the  folks 
and  my  old  aunt  were  there,  as  when  I  was  a  child. — 
'and  when  I  awoke,  behold  it  was  a  dream  I'  I  suppose 
if  I  were  really  to  set  out  and  go  there,  hardly  a  soul 
would  be  left  alive  to  say  to  me  dog  how  art !  But  tell 
Hannah  to  stir  her  stumps  and  serve  supper, — though  I'd 
fain  do  it  myself,  the  poor  old  soul  is  getting  so  unhandy!" 

Hannah  revealed  herself  to  be  much  nimbler  and  sev- 
eral years  younger  than  granny,  though  of  this  the  latter 
seemed  to  be  oblivious.     When  the  meal  was  nearly  over 


Tft^O    ON  A    TOWER.  IJ 

Mrs.  Martin  produced  the  contents  of  the  mysterious  ves- 
sel by  the  lire,  saying  that  she  had  caused  it  to  be  brought 
in  from  the  back  kitchen,  because  Hannah  was  hardly 
to  be  trusted  witli  such  things,  she  was  becoming  so 
childish. 

"What  is  it,  then.'"  said  Swithin.  "Oh,  one  of  your 
special  puddings. "  At  sight  of  it,  however,  he  added  re- 
proachfully, "  Now,  granny  !  " 

Instead  of  being  round  it  was  in  shape  an  irregular 
bi  ivlder  that  hail  been  exposed  to  the  weather  for  centuries, 
— a  iittle  scrap  pared  off  here,  and  a  little  piece  broken 
away  there;  the  general  aim  being,  nevertheless,  to  avoid 
destroying  the  symmetry  of  the  pudding,  while  taking  as 
much  as  possible  of  its  substance. 

"The  fact  is,"  added  Swithin,  "the  pudding  is  half 
gone  !  ' 

"I've  only  sliced  off  the  merest  paring  once  or  twice,  to 
taste  if  it  was  well  done  !  "  pleaded  granny  INIartin,  with 
wounded  feelings.  "I  said  to  Hannah,  when  she  took  it 
up,  '  Put  it  here  to  keep  it  warm,  as  there's  a  better  fire 
than  in  the  back  kitchen.'" 

"Well,  I  am  nut  going  to  eat  any  of  it !  "  said  Swithin 
decisively,  as  he  rose  from  the  table,  pushed  away  his  chair, 
and  went  upstairs;  the  other  station  of  life  that  was  in  hi 
blood,  and  had  been  brought  out  by  the  grammar  school, 
probably  stimulating  him. 

"Ah,  the  world  is  an  ungrateful  city  !  'Twas  a  pity  I 
didn't  go  under  ground  and  disappear  from  history  sixty 
years  ago,  instead  of  leaving  my  own  country  to  come 
here!"  mourned  old  xAIrs.  Martin.  "But  I  told  his 
mother    how    'twould    be, — marrying    so    many    notches 


i8  TIVO    ON  A    TO  WE  a. 

above  her.  The  child  was  sure  to  chaw  high,  hke  his 
father. " 

When  Swithin  had  been  upstairs  a  minute  or  two,  how- 
ever, he  altered  his  mind,  and,  coming  down  again,  ate 
all  the  pudding,  with  the  aspect  of  a  person  engaged  in  a 
deed  of  great  magnanimity.  The  relish  with  which  he 
did  so  restored  the  unison  that  knew  no  more  serious  in- 
terruptions than  such  as  this. 

"  ]\Ir.  Torkingham  has  been  here  this  afternoon,'"  said 
his  grandmother;  "and  he  wants  me  to  let  him  meet  some 
of  the  choir  here  to-night  fur  practice.  They  who  live  at 
this  end  of  the  parish  won't  go  to  his  house  to  try  over  the 
tunes,  because  'tis  so  far,  they  say;  and  so  'tis,  poor  men. 
So  he's  going  to  see  what  coming  to  them  will  do.  He 
asks  if  you  would  like  to  join." 

"  I  w'ould  if  I  had  not  so  much  to  do." 

"But  it  is  cloudy  to-night." 

"Yes;  but  I  have  calculations  without  end,  granny. 
Now,  don't  you  tell  him  I'm  in  the  house,  will  you,  and 
then  he'll  not  ask  for  me. " 

"But  if  he  should,  must  I  then  tell  a  lie,  Lord  forgive 
me .'  " 

"No,  you  can  say  I'm  upstairs;  he  must  think  what  he 
likes.  Not  a  word  about  the  astronomy  to  any  of  them, 
whatever  you  do.  I  should  be  called  a  visionary,  and  all 
sorts." 

"So  thou  beest,  child  Why  can't  .ye  do  some'hing 
that's  of  use  " — 

At  the  sound  of  footsteps  Swithin  beat  a  hasty  retreat 
upstairs,  where  he  struck  a  light,  and  revealed  a  table  cov- 
ered with  books  and  papers,  while  round  the  walls  hung 


TWO  ON  A  TOWER,  19 

star-maps  and  other  diagrams  illustrative  of  celestial  phe- 
nomena. In  a  corner  s  ood  a  huge  pasteboard  tube, 
which  a  close  inspection  would  have  shown  to  be  in- 
tended for  a  telescope.  Suitl  in  hung  a  thick  cloth  over 
the  window  in  addition  to  the  curtains,  and  sat  dov\n  to 
his  papers.  On  the  ceil.ny  was  a  black  stain  of  smoke, 
and  under  this  he  placed  his  lamp,  evidencing  that  the 
midr.ight  oil  was  consumed  on  that  precise  spot  pretty 
often. 

Meanwhile,  there  had  entered  to  the  room  below  a  per- 
sonage who,  to  judge  from  her  voice  and  the  quick  pit-pat 
of  her  feet,  was  a  female,  young  and  blithe.  Mrs.  Martin 
welcomed  her  by  the  title  of  Miss  Tabitha  Lark,  and  in- 
quired what  wind  had  brought  her  that  way;  to  which  the 
visitor  replied  that  she  had  come  for  the  singing. 

"Oh,  you  are  one  of  them  .^  Sit  ye  down.  And  do 
you  still  go  to  the  House  to  read  to  my  lady .' " 

"Yes,  I  go  and  read;  but  as  to  getting  my  lady  to 
hearken,  that's  more  than  a  team  of  six  horses  could  force 
her  to  do."  The  girl  had  a  remarkably  smart  and  fluent 
utterance,  which  was  probably  a  cause,  or  a  consequence, 
of  her  vocation. 

"'Tis  the  same  story,  then.^"  said  grandmother  Martin. 

"Yes.  Eaten  out  with  listlessness.  She's  neither  sick 
nor  sorry,  but  how  dull  and  dreary  she  is,  only  herself  can 
tell.  When  [  get  there  in  the  morning,  there  she  is  sit- 
ting up  in  bed,  for  my  lady  don't  care  to  get  up;  and  then 
she  makes  me  bring  this  book  and  that  book,  till  the  bed 
is  heaped  up  with  immense  volumes,  that  half  bury  her, 
making  her  look,  as  she  leans  upon  her  elbow,  like  the 
stoning  of  Stephen  in  the  church-window.     She  yawnsj 


20  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

then  she  looks  towards  the  tall  glass;  then  she  looks  out 
at  the  weather,  mooning  her  great  black  eyes,  and  fixing 
them  on  the  sky  as  if  they  stuck  there,  while  my  tongue 
s;oes  flick-flack  along,  a  hundred  and  fifty  words  a  minute; 
;hen  she  looks  at  the  clock;  then  she  asks  me  what  I've 
been  reading." 

"Ah,  poor  soul!"  said  granny.  "No  doubt  she  says 
in  the  morning,  'Would  God  it  were  evening,'  and  in  the 
evening,  'Would  God  it  were  morning,'  like  the  disobedi- 
ent woman  in  Deuteronomy." 

Swithin,  in  the  room  overhead,  had  suspended  his  cal- 
culations, for  the  dialogue  interested  him.  There  now 
crunched  heavier  steps  outside  the  door,  and  his  grand- 
mother could  be  heard  greeting  sundry  representatives  of 
the  bass  and  tenor  voice,  who  lent  a  cheerful  and  well- 
known  personality  to  the  names  Sammy  Blore,  Nat  Chap- 
man, Hezekiah  Biles,  and  Haymoss  Fry  (the  latter  being 
one  with  whom  the  reader  has  already  a  distant  acquaint- 
ance); besides  these  came  small  producers  of  treble,  who 
had  not  yet  developed  into  such  distinctive  units  of  society 
as  to  require  particularizing. 

"Is  the  good  man  come.^ "  asked  Nat  Chapman.  "No, 
—I  see  we  are  here  afore  him.  And  how  is  it  with  aged 
»,'omen  to-night,  Mrs.  ]\Iartin  .•*  " 

' '  Tedious  traipsing  enough  with  this  one,  Nat.  Sit  ye 
down.  Weil,  little  Freddy,  you  don't  wish  in  the  morn- 
ing that  'twere  evening,  and  at  evening  that  'twere  morning 
again,  do  you,  Freddy,  trust  ye  for  it .''  " 

"Now,  who  might  wish  such  a  thing  as  that,  Mrs. 
Martin  i — nobody  in  this  parish  !  "  asked  Sammy  Blore 
curiously. 


TWO  ON  A   TOWER.  2i 

"My  lady  is  always  wishing-  it,"  spoke  up  Miss  Tabilha 
Lark. 

"Oh,  she!  Nobody  can  be  answerable  for  the  wishes 
of  thai  oniiatural  class  of  mankind.  Not  but  that  the 
woman's  heart-strings  is  tied  in  many  aggravating   ways." 

"Ah,  poor  woman!"  said  granny.  "The  state  she 
finds  herself  in  — neither  maid,  wife,  nor  widow,  as  you 
may  say — is  not  the  primest  form  of  life  for  keeping  in 
good  spirits.  How  long  is  it  since  she  has  heard  from  Sir 
Blount,  Tabitha?" 

"Two  years  and  mor'.,'  said  the  \oung  woman.  "  He 
went  into  one  side  of  Africa,  as  it  might  be,  three  St.  Mar- 
tin's days  back.  I  can  mind  it,  because  'twas  my  birth- 
day. And  he  meant  to  come  out  the  other  side.  But  he 
didn't.     He  has  never  com.e  out  at  all." 

"For  all  the  world  like  losing  a  rat  in  a  barley-mow," 
said  Hezekiah,  glancing  round  for  corroboration.  "  He's 
lost,  though  you  know  where  h.e  is."'  His  comrades 
nodded.  "Ay,  my  lady  is  a  v.-alking  weariness,  that's 
plain.  I  seed  her  yawn  ji;st  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  fox  was  holloaed  away  by  Harton  Copse,  and  the 
hounds  ran  him  all  but  past  her  carriage  wheels.  If  I 
were  she,  I'd  see  a  little  life  ;  though  there's  no-fnir,  club- 
walking,  nor  feast,  to  speak  of,  till  Easter  week, — that's 
true." 

"She  dares  not.  She's  unfler  solemn  oath  and  testa- 
ment to  do  no  such  thing." 

"  Be  cust  if  I  would  keep  any  such  oath  and  testament ! 
But  here's  the  pa'son,  if  my  ears  don't  deceive  me." 

There  w^as  a  noise  of  horse's  hoofs  without,  a  srumbling 
against  the  door-scraper,  a  tethering  to  the  window-  shutter, 


2i  7'IVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

a  creaking  of  the  door  on  its  hinges,  and  a  voice  whiCii 
Swithin  recognized  as  Mr.  Torkingham's.  He  greeted 
each  of  the  previous  arrivals  by  name,  and  stated  that  1  e 
was  glad  to  see  them  all  so  punctually  assembled. 

"Ay,  sir,"  said  Haymoss  Fry,  "  Tis  only  my  jints  tha 
hive  kept  me  from  assembling  myself  long  ago.  I'd  as 
semble  upon  the  top  of  Welland  Steeple,  if  'tweren't  for 
my  jints.  I  assure  ye,  Pa'son  Tarkengham,  that  in  the 
clitch  o'  my  knees,  where  the  rain  used  to  come  through, 
when  I  was  cutting  clots  for  the  new  lawn,  in  old  my 
lady's  time,  'tis  as  if  rats  were  gnawing,  every  now  and 
then.  When  a  fellow's  young  he's  too  small  in  the  brain 
to  see  how  soon  a  constitution  can  be  squandered,  worse 
luck  !  " 

''True,"  said  Biles,  to  fill  the  time  while  the  parson 
was  engaged  in  finding  the  psalms.  "A  man's  a  fool  till 
he's  forty.  Often  have  I  thought,  when  hay-pitching,  and 
the  small  of  my  back  seeming  no  stouter  than  a  harnet's. 
'  The  Lord  send  that  I  had  but  the  making  of  laboring 
men  for  a  twelvemonth  ! '  I'd  gie  every  man  jack  tv.-o 
good  backbones,  even  if  the  alteration  was  as  wrong  as 
forgery. " 

"Four, — four  backbones,"  said  Haymoss,  decisively. 

"Yes,  four,"  threw  in  Sammy  Blore,  with  additional 
weight  of  experience.  "For  you  want  one  in  front  for 
breastplowing  and  such  like,  one  at  the  right  side  for 
ground-dressing,  and  one  at  the  left  side  for  turning 
mixens. " 

"Well,  four.  Then  next  I'd  move  every  man's  wynd- 
pipe  a  good  span  away  from  his  glutch-pipe,  so  that  al 
harvest  time  he  could  fetch  breathing  in  's  drinking,  witii 


TfVO    ON  A     TOWER.  23 

out  being  choked  and  strangled  as  he  is  now.     Thinks  I, 
when  I  feel  the  victuals  going  " — 

"Now  we'll  begin,"  interrupted  Mr.  Turkingham,  his 
mind  returning  lo  this  world  again  on  concludiig  his 
search  for  a  hymn. 

Thereupon  the  racket  of  chair-legs  on  the  floor  signifie'' 
that  they  were  settling  into  their  seats,  ---a  disturbanc- 
which  Swithin  took  advantage  of  by  going  on  tiptoe  across 
the  lloor  above,  and  putting  sheets  of  paper  over  knot- 
holes in  the  boarding  at  points  where  carpet  was  lacking, 
that  his  lamp-light  might  not  shine  down.  The  absence 
of  a  ceiling  beneath  rendered  his  position  virtually  that  of 
one  suspended  in  the  same  apartment. 

The  parson  announced  the  tune,  and  his  voice  burst 
forth  with  "Onward,  Christian  soldiers!"  in  notes  of  rigid 
cheerfulness.  In  this  start,  however,  he  was  joined  only 
bv  the  girls  and  boys,  the  men  furnishing  but  an  accom- 
paniment of  ahas  and  hems.  Mr.  Torkingham  stopped, 
and  Sammy  Blore  spoke: — 

"Beg  your  pardon,  sir, — if  you'll  deal  mild  with  us  a 
moment.  What  with  the  wind  and  walking,  my  throat's 
rough  as  a  grater;  and  not  knowing  you  were  going  to 
hit  up  that  minute,  I  hadn't  hawked,  and  I  don't  think 
Hezzy  and  Nat  had,  either, — had  ye,  souls .-'  " 

"I  hadn't  done  it  thoroughly,  that's  true,"  said  Heze- 
kiah. 

"Quite  right  of  you,  then,  to  speak, "  said  Mr.  Tork- 
ingham. "Don't  mind  explaining;  we  are  here  for 
practice.       Now    clear    your    throats,    then,    and    at    it 


agam. 


There  was  a  noise,  as  of  atmospheric  hoes  and  scrapers, 


34  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

and  the  bass  contingent  at  last  got  under  way  with  a  time 
of  its  own.      "  Honwerd,  Christen  sojers  !  " 

"Ah,  that's  where  wcare  so  defective, — the  pronuncia- 
tion," interrupted  the  parson.  "Now  repeat  after  me: 
'  On-ward,  Christ-ian,  sol-diers.'" 

The  choir  repeated  hke  an  exaggerative  echo:  "On-wed, 
Chris-ting,  sol-jaws. " 

"  Better !  "  said  the  parson,  in  the  strenuously  sanguine 
tones  of  a  man  who  got  his  living  by  discovering  a  bright 
side  in  things  where  it  was  not  very  perceptible  to  other 
people.  "But  it  should  not  be  given  with  quite  so  ex- 
treme an  accent;  or  we  may  be  called  affected  by  other 
parishes.  And  Nathaniel  Chapman,  there's  a  jauntiness  in 
)f)ur  manner  of  singing  which  is  not  quite  becoming. 
Why  don't  you  sing  more  earnestly .''  " 

"My  conscience  won't  let  me,  sir,"  said  Nat.  "They 
say  every  man  for  himself;  but,  thank  God,  I'm  not  so 
mean  as  to  lessen  old  folkes'  chances  by  singing  earnest  in 
the  prime  o'  life." 

"It's  bad  reasoning,  Nat,  I  fear.  Now,  perhaps  we  had 
better  sol-fa  the  tune.  Eyes  on  your  books,  please.  Sol- 
sol!  /a-/a/  mi" — 

"I  can't  sing  like  that,  not  I!"  said  Sammy  Blore, 
with  coodemnatory  astonishment.  "  I  can  sing  genuine 
music,  like  F  and  G;  but  not  anything  so  much  out  of 
the  order  of  nature  as  that." 

"Perhaps  you've  brought  the  wrong  book,  sir? "chimed 
in  liaymoss  kindly.  "I've  knowed  music  early  iii  life. 
and  late,  —in  short,  ever  since  Luke  Sneap  broke  his  new 
fiddle  bow  in  the  wedding-psalm,  when  Pa'son  Wilton 
brought  home  his  bride  (you  can  mind  the  time,  Samm}  .• 


TJVO    ON  A     TOWER.  25 

— at  '  His  wife,  like  a  fair  fertile  vine,  her  lovely  fruit  shall 
bring,'  when  the  young  woman  turned  as  red  as  a  rose, 
not  knowing  'twas  coming).  I've  knowed  music  ever 
since  then,  I  say,  sir,  and  never  heard  the  like  o'  that. 
Every  martel  note  had  his  name  of  A,  B,  C,  at  that  time 
ind  since.  ' 

'  Ves,  yes, — but  this  is  a  more  recent  system.'' 

"Still,  you  can't  alter  a  old  established  note  that's  A  or 
B  by  nater,"  rejoined  Haymoss,  with  yet  deeper  conviction 
that  Mr.  Torkingham  was  getting  off  his  head.  "Now 
sound  A,  neighbor  Sammy,  and  let's  have  a  slap  at  Chris- 
ten sojers  again. " 

Sammy  produced  a  private  tuning-fork,  black  and  grimy, 
which,  being  about  seventy  years  of  age,  and  wrought  be- 
fore pianoforte  builders  had  sent  up  the  pitch  to  make  their 
instruments  brilliant,  was  nearly  a  note  fkitlcr  than  the 
parson's.  While  an  argument  as  to  the  true  pitch  was  in 
progress,  there  came  a  knocking  without. 

"  Somebody's  at  the  door !  "  said  a  little  treble  girl. 

"Thought  1  heard  a  knock  before  !  "  said  the  relieved 
choir. 

The  latch  was  lifted,  and  a  man  asked  from  the  dark' 
ness,   "Is  Mr.  Torkingham  here.?" 

"Yes,  ]\Iills.  What  do  you  want  .^  "  It  was  the  par- 
son's man. 

"Oh,  if  you  please,"  says  Mills,  showing  an  advanced 
margin  of  hmiself  round  the  door.  "Lady  Constantine 
wants  to  see  you  very  particular,  sir,  and  could  you  call 
on  her  after  dinner,  if  you  ben't  engaged  with  fokes.''  She's 
just  had  a  letter, — so  they  say, — and  it's  about  that,  I 
believe. " 


26  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

YiviAiVi'^,  im  looking  at  his  watch,  that  it  was  necessaiy 
to  start  at  once  if  he  meant  to  see  her  that  night,  the  par- 
son cut  short  the  practicing,  and,  naming  another  night 
for  meeting,  he  withdrew.  All  the  singers  assisted  him  on 
to  his  cob,  and  watched  him  till  he  disappeared  over  the 
edge  of  the  glen. 


CHAPTER    III. 

A /TR.  TORKINGHAM  trotted  briskly  onward  to  his 
■^*-*-  hous3,  a  distance  of  about  a  mile,  each  cottage,  as 
it  revealed  its  half-buried  position  by  its  single  light,  ap- 
pearing like  a  one-eyed  night  creature  watching  him  from 
an  ambush.  Leaving  his  horse  at  the  parsonage,  he  per- 
formed the  remainder  of  the  journey  on  foot,  crossing  the 
park  towards  Welland  House  by  a  stile  and  path,  till  he 
struck  into  the  drive  near  the  north  door  of  the  mansion. 
This  drive,  it  may  be  remarked,  was  also  the  common 
highway  to  the  lower  village,  and  hence  Lady  Constantine's 
residence  and  park,  as  is  often  the  case  with  old-fashioned 
manors,  possessed  none  of  the  exclusiveness  often  found 
in  newer  aristocratic  settlements.  The  parishioners  looked 
upon  the  park  avenue  as  their  natural  thoroughfare,  par- 
ticularly for  christenings,  weddings,  and  funerals,  which 
passed  the  squire's  mansion  with  due  considerations  as  to 
the  scenic  effect  of  the  same  from  the  manor  windows. 
Hence  the  house  of  Constantine,  when  going  out  from  its 
breakfast,  had  been  continually  crossed  on  the  doorstep, 
for  the  last  two  hundred  years,  by  the  houses  of  Hodge 
and  Giles  in  full  cry  to,  dinner.     At  present  these  collis- 


zS  TIVO    OM  A     TOWER. 

ions  were  but  too  infrequent,  for  though  the  villagers 
passed  the  north  front  door  as  regularly  as  ever,  they  sel- 
dom met  a  Constantine.  Only  one  was  there  to  be  met, 
and  she  had  no  zest  for  outings  before  noon. 

The  long,  low  front  of  the  Great  House,  as  it  was  called 
by  the  parishioners,  stretching  from  end  to  end  of  the  ter- 
race, was  in  darkness  as  the  vicar  slackened  his  pace  be 
fore  it,  and  only  the  distant  fall  of  water  disturbed  the  still- 
ness of  the  manorial  precincts. 

On  gaining  admittance  he  found  Lady  Constantine  wait- 
ing tct  receive  him.  She  wore  a  heavy  dress  of  veWet  and 
lace,  and,  being  the  only  person  in  the  spacious  apart- 
ment, she  looked  small  and  isolated.  In  her  left  hand 
she  held  a  letter  and  a  couple  of  at-home  cards.  The  soft 
dark  eyes  which  she  raised  to  him  as  he  entered — large, 
and  melancholy  by  circumstance  far  more  than  by  quality 
— were  the  natural  indices  of  a  warm  and  affectionate, 
perhaps  slightly  voluptuous,  temperament,  languishing  foi 
want  of  something  to  do,  cherish,  or  suffer  for. 

JMr.  Torkingham  seated  himself  His  boots,  which  l;ad 
seemed  elegant  in  the  farm-house,  appeared  rather  clums)' 
here,  and  his  coat,  that  was  a  model  of  tailoring  when  he 
stood  amid  the  choir,  now  exhibited. decidedly  strange  rela- 
tions with  his  limbs.  Three  years  had  passed  since  his 
induction  to  the  living  of  Welland,  but  he  had  never  as 
yet  found  means  to  establish  that  relationship  with  Lady 
Constantine  which  usually  grows  up,  in  the  ccurse  of  time, 
between  parsonage  and  manor-house,  —  unless,  indeed, 
either  side  should  surprise  the  other  by  showing  a  weak- 
ness for  awkward  modern  ideas  on  land-ownership  or  church 
formulas  respectively,  which  had  not  been  the  case  here. 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  29 

The  present  meeting,  however,  seemed  likely  to  initiate 
such  a  relationship. 

There  was  an  appearance  of  confidence  on  Lady  Con- 
Stantine's  face;  she  said  she  was  so  very  glad  that  he  had 
come;  and,  looking  down  at  the  letter  in  her  hand,  she 
was  on  the  point  of  pulling  it  from  its  envelope,  but  she 
did  not.  After  a  moment  she  went  on  more  quickly:  "I 
wanted  your  advice,  or  rather  your  opinion,  on  a  serious 
matter,— on  a  point  of  conscience."  Saying  which,  she 
laid  down  the  letter  and  looked  at  the  cards. 

It  might  have  been  apparent  to  a  more  penetrating  eye 
than  the  vicar's,  that  Lady  Constant! ne,  either  from  timidity, 
misgiving,  or  reconviction,  had  swerved  from  her  intended 
communication,  or  perhaps  decided  to  begin  at  the  other 

end. 

The  parson,  who  had  been  expecting  a  question  on 
some  local  business  or  intelligence,  at  the  tenor  of  her 
words  altered  his  face  to  the  higher  branch  of  his  profession. 

"I  hope  I  may  find  myself  of  service,  on  that  or  any 
other  question,"  he  said  gendy. 

' '  I  hope  so.  You  may  possibly  be  aware,  Mr.  Tork- 
ingham,  that  my  husband.  Sir  Blount  Constantine,  was, 
not  to  mince  matters,  a  mistaken — somewhat  jealous  man. 
Yet  you  may  hardly  have  discerned  it  in  the  short  time 
you  knew  him.  " 

'  I  had  soTne  little  knowledge  of  Sir  Blount's  character 
in  that  respect. " 

"Well,  on  this  account  my  married  life  with  him  was 
not  of  the  most  comfortable  kind."  (Lady  Constantine's 
voice  dropped  to  a  more  pathetic  note.)  "I  am  sure  I 
gave  him  no  cause  for  suspicion;  though  had  I  known 


50  TtVO    OJV  A     TOWER. 

his  disposition   sooner   I   should   hardly   have   dared   to 
marry  him.     But  his  jealousy  and  doubt  of  me  were  not 
so  strong  as  to  divert  him  from  a  purpose  of  his, — a  mania 
for  African  lion-hunting,  which  he  dignified  by  calling  it 
a  scheme  of  geographical  discovery;  for  he  was  inordi- 
nately anxious  to  make  a  name  for  himself  in  that  field. 
It  was  the  one  passion  that  was  stronger  than  his  mistrust 
of  me.     Before  going  away  he  sat  down  with  me  in  this 
room,   and  read  me  a  lecture,   which  resulted  in  a  very 
rash  offer  on  my  part.      When  I  tell  it  to  you,  you  will 
find  that  it  provides  a  key  to  all  that  is  unusual  in  my  life 
here.     He  bade  me  consider  what  my  position  would  be 
when  he  was  gone;  hoped  that  I  should  remember  what 
was   due  to  him, — that  I  would  not  so  behave  toward? 
other  men  as  to  bring  the  name  of  Constantine  into  sus- 
picion;   and   charged  me  to  avoid  levity  of  conduct  ir 
attending  any  ball,  rout,  or  dinner  to  which  I  miglit  bo 
invited.      I,    in  some  indignation  at  his  low  opinion    n\ 
me,    responded    perhaps   too   spiritedly.     I    volunteered, 
there  and  then,   to  live  like  a  cloistered  nun  during  his 
absence;  to  go  into  no  society  whatever, — not  even  to  a 
neighbor's   dinner-party;   and    demanded   bitterly  if  ihat 
would  satisfy  him.      He  said  yes,  instantly  held  me  to  my 
word,  and   gave  me  no  loop-hole  for  retracting  it.      The 
inevitable  fruits  of  precipitancy  have  resulted  to  me:  my 
life  has  become  a  burden.     I  get  such  invitations  as  these" 
(holding  up  the  cards),  "but  I  so  invariably  refuse  them 
that  they  are  getting  very  rare.   ...      I  ask  you,  Can  I 
honestly  break  that  promise  to  my  husband  .?  "   . 

Mr.  Torkingham  seemed  embarrassed.      "If  you  prom- 
ised Sir  Blount  Constantine  to  live  in  solitude  till  he  comes 


TIVO    OAT  A    TOWER.  31 

back,  you  are,  it  seems  to  me,  bound  by  that  promise.  1 
fear  that  the  wish  to  be  released  from  your  engagement  is 
to  some  extent  a  reason  why  it  should  be  kept.  But  your 
own  conscience  would  surely  be  the  best  guide,  Lady 
Constanline  !  " 

"My  conscience  is  disordered  with  the  sense  of  its  re- 
sponsibilities," she  continued,  with  a  sigh.  "  Yet  it  cer- 
tainly does  sometimes  say  to  me  that — that  I  ought  to  keep 
my  word.  Very  well;  I  must  go  on  as  I  am  going,  I 
suppose. " 

"If  you  respect  a  vow, -I  think  }ou  must  respect  your 
own,"  said  the  parson,  acquiring  some  further  firmness. 
"  Had  it  been  wrung  from  you  by  compulsion,  moral  or 
physical,  it  would  have  been  open  to  you  to  break  it.  But 
as  you  proposed  a  vow  when  your  husband  only  required 
a  good  intention,  I  think  you  ought  to  adhere  to  it;  or 
what  is  the  pride  worth  that  led  you  to  offer  it } " 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  with  resignation.  "But  it  was 
quite  a  work  of  supererogation  on  my  part. " 

"That  you  proposed  it  in  a  supererogatory  spirit  does 
not  lessen  your  obligation,  having  once  put  yourself  under 
that  obligation.  St.  Paul,  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
says,  'An  oath  for  confirmation  is  an  end  of  all  strife.' 
A.nd  you  will  readily  recall  the  words  of  Ecclesiastes:  'Pay 
that  which  thou  hast  vowed.  Better  is  it  that  thou  should- 
est  not  vow  than  that  thou  shouldest  vow  and  not  pay.' 
Why  not  write  to  Sir  Blount,  tell  him  the  inconvenience 
of  such  a  bond,  and  ask  him  to  release  you  }  " 

"No;  never  will  I.  The  expression  of  such  a  desire 
would,  in  his  mind,  be  a  sufficient  reason  for  disallowing 
it.      I'll  keep  my  word. " 


32  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

Mr.  Torkingham  rose  to  leave.  After  she  had  held  out 
her  hand  to  him,  when  he  had  crossed  the  room,  and  was 
within  two  steps  of  the  door,  she  said.  "Mr.  Torkingham." 
He  stopped.  "  What  I  have  told  you  is  not  what  I  sent 
.or  you  to  tell  you. " 

Mr.  Torkingham  walked  back  to  her  side.  "  What  is 
it,  tlien  .'  ""  he  asked,  with  grave  surprise. 

"It  is  a  true  revelation,  as  far  as  it  goes;  but  there  is 
something  more.  I  have  received  this  letter,  and  I  wanted 
to  sav — something." 

"Then  sav  it  now,  mv  dear  ladv. '" 

"No,"'  .--he  answered,  with  a  look  of  distress.  "I  can- 
not speak  of  it  now  !  Some  other  time.  Don't  stay. 
Please  consider  Uiis  conversation  as  private.     Good-night." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

TT  was  a  bright  starlight  night,  a  week  or  ten  days  later. 

"*■  There  had  been  several  such  nights  since  the  occasion 
of  Lady  Constantine's  promise  to  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  to 
come  and  study  astronomical  phenomena  on  the  Rings- 
Hill  column;  but  she  had  not  gone  there.  This  evening 
she  sat  at  a  window,  the  blind  of  which  had  not  been 
drawn  down.  Her  elbow  rested  on  a  little  table,  and  her 
cheek  on  her  hand.  Her  eyes  were  attracted  by  the 
brightness  of  the  planet  Jupiter,  as  he  rode  in  the  ecliptic 
opposite,  beaming  down  upon  her  as  if  desirous  of 
notice. 

Beneath  the  planet  could  be  still  discerned  the  dark 
edges  of  the  park  landscape  against  the  sky.  As  one  of 
its  features,  though  nearly  screened  by  the  trees  which 
had  been  planted  to  shut  out  the  fallow  tracts  of  the  estate, 
rose  the  upper  part  of  the  column.  It  was  hardly  visible 
now,  even  if  visible  at  all;  yet  Lady  Constantine  knew 
from  day-time  experience  its  exact  bearing  from  the  win- 
dow at  wliich  she  leaned.  The  knowledge  that  there  it 
still  was,  despite  its  rapid  envelopment  by  the  shades,  led 
her  ion    y  !iii  i  1   lo  her  late  meeting  on  its  summit  with 


34  TIVO    ON"  A    TOWER. 

the  young  astronomer,  and  to  her  promise  to  honor  him 
with  a  visit  for  learning  some  secrets  about  the  scintilla- 
ting bodies  overhead.  The  curious  juxtaposition  of  youth- 
ful ardor  and  old  despair  that  she  had  found  in  the  lad 
would  have  made  him  interesting  to  a  woman  of  percep- 
tion, apart  from  his  fair  hair  and  early-Christian  face.  But 
such  is  the  heightening  touch  of  memory  that  his  beauty 
was  probably  richer  in  her  imagination  than  in  the  real. 
It  was  a  moot  point  to  consider  whether  the  temptations 
that  would  be  brought  to  bear  upon  him  in  his  course 
would  exceed  the  static  power  of  his  nature  to  resist.  Had 
he  been  a  rich  youth,  he  would  have  seemed  one  to  tremble 
for.  In  spite  of  his  attractive  ambitions  and  gentlemanly 
bearing,  she  thought  it  would  possibly  be  better  for  him 
if  he  never  became  known  outside  his  lonely  tower, — for- 
getting that  he  had  received  such  intellectual  enlargement 
as  would  make  his  continuance  in  Welland  seem,  in  his 
own  eye,  a  slight  upon  his  father's  branch  of  his  family, 
the  social  standing  of  which  had  been,  only  a  few  years 
earlier,  but  little  removed  from  her  own. 

Suddenly  she  flung  a  cloak  about  her  and  went  out  on 
the  terrace.  An  altogether  new  idea  plainly  possessed  her. 
She  went  down  the  steps  to  the  lower  lawn,  through  the 
door  to  the  open  park,  and  there  stood  still.  The  tower 
was  now  discernible.  As  the  words  in  which  a  thought  is 
expressed  develop  a  further  thought,  so  did  the  fact  of  her 
having  got  so  far  influence  her  to  go  further.  A  perst»n 
who  had  casually  observed  her  gait  would  have  thought  it 
irregular;  the  lessenings  and  increasings  of  speed  with 
which  she  proceeded  in  the  direction  of  the  pillar  could  be 
accounted   for  only  by  a  motive  mu.li   nioio  disturbing 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  35 

than  an  intention  to  look  through  an  astronomical  tele- 
scope. Thus  she  went  on,  till,  leaving  the  park,  she 
crossed  the  turnpike  road,  and  entered  the  large  field,  in 
the  middle  of  which  the  fir-clad  hill  stood  like  Wont 
St.    Michel   in   its  bay. 

The  stars  were  so  bright  as  distinctly  to  show  her  the 
[)laco,  and  now  she  could  see  a  faint  light  at  the  top  of 
the  column,  which  rose  like  a  shadowy  finger  pointing 
to  the  upper  constellations.  There  was  no  wind,  in  a 
human  point  of  view;  but  a  steady  stertorous  breathing 
from  the  fir-trees  showed  that,  now  as  always,  there  was 
movement  in  apparent  stagnation.  Nothing  but  an  ab- 
solute vacuum  could  paralyze  their  utterance. 

The  door  of  the  tower  was  shut.  It  was  something 
more  than  the  freakishness  that  is  engendered  by  a  sick- 
,  ening  monotony  which  had  led  Lady  Constantine  thus 
far,  and  hence  she  made  no  ado  about  admitting  herself. 
Three  years  ago,  when  her  every  action  was  a  thing  of 
propriety,  she  had  known  of  no  possible  purpose  which 
could  have  led  her  abroad  in  a  manner  such  as  this. 

She  ascended  the  tower  noiselessly.  On  raising  her 
head  above  the  hatchway  she  beheld  Swithin  bending  over 
a  scroll  of  paper  which  lay  on  the  little  table  beside  him. 
The  small  lantern  that  illuminated  it  showed  also  that  he 
was  warmly  wrapped  up  in  a  coat  and  thick  ca[),  behind 
him  standing  the  telescope  on  its  frame.  What  was  he 
doing.'  She  looked  over  his  shoulder  upon  the  paper, 
and  saw  figures  and  signs.  When  he  had  jotted  down 
something,  he  went  to  the  telescope  again. 

"What  a,re  you  doing,   to,-uight.'"  she  said  in  a  lo\Sf 
voice. 


36  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

Swithin  stalled,  and  turned.  The  faint  lamp-light  was 
sufficient  to  reveal  her  face  to  him. 

"  "  Tedious  work,  Lady  Constantine,"  he  answered,  with- 
out betraying  much  surprise.  "Doing  my  best  to  watch 
phenomenal  stars,  as  I  may  call  them. " 

"You  said  you  would  show  me  the  heavens,  if  I  could 
come  on  a  starlight  night.      I  have  come." 

Swithin,  as  a  preliminary,  swept  round  the  telescope  to 
Jupiter,  and  exhibited  to  her  the  glory  of  that  orb.  Then 
he  directed  the  instrument  to  the  less  bright  shape  of  Sat- 
urn. "  Here,"  he  .said,  warming  up  to  the  subject,  "we 
see  a  woild  which  is  to  my  mind  by  far  the  most  wonder- 
ful in  the  solar  system.  Think  of  streams  of  satellites  or 
meteors  racing  round  and  round  the  planet  like  a  fly- 
wheel, so  close  together  as  to  seem  solid  matter !  "  He 
entered  further  and  further  into  the  subject,  his  ideas  gath- 
ering momentum  as  he  went  on,  like  his  pet  heavenly 
bodies. 

When  this  yellow-haired  laddie  paused  for  breath,  she 
said,  in  tones  very  different  from  his  own,  "I  ought  now 
to  tell  you  that,  though  I  am  interested  in  the  stars,  they 
were  not  what  I  came  to  see  }ou  about.  They  were  only 
an  excuse  fur  coming.  I  first  thought  of  disclosing  the 
matter  to  Mr.  Torkingham;  but  I  altered  my  mind,  and 
decided  on  you." 

She  spoke  in  so  low  a  voice  that  he  might  not  have 
heard  her.  At  all  events,  abstracted  by  his  grand  theme, 
he-did  not  heed  her.      He  continued, — 

"We^l,  we  will  get  outside  the  solar  system  altogether, 
leave  the  whole  group  of  sun,  primary,  and  secondary 
planets  quite  behind  us  in  our  flight,    as  a   bird   might 


TtVO    OJV  A    TOWER.  37 

leave  its  bush  and  sweep  into  the  whole  forest.  Now  what 
do  you  see,  Lady  Constantine  ?  "  He  leveled  the  achro- 
matic at  Sirius. 

She  said  that  she  saw  a  bright  star,  though  it  only 
seemed  a  point  of  light  now  as  before. 

"That's  because  it  is  so  distant  that  no  magnifying  will 
bring  its  size  up  to  zero.  Though  called  a  fixed  star,  it 
is,  like  all  fixed  stars,  moving  with  inconceivable  velocity; 
but  no  magnifying  will  show  that  velocity  as  anything  but 
rest. " 

And  thus  they  talked  on  about  Sirius,  and  then  about 
other  stars 

.     .     .     in  the  scrowl 
Of  all  those  beasts,  and  fish,  and  fowl, 
With  which,  like  Indian  plantations, 
•  The  learned  stock  the  constellations, 

* 

till  he  asked  her  how  many  stars  she  thought  were  visible 
to  them  at  that  moment. 

She  looked  around  over  the  magnificent  stretch  of  sky 
that  their  high  position  unfolded.  "Oh,  thousands, — 
hundreds  of  thousands,"  she  said  absently. 

"No.  There  are  only  abuut  three  thousand.  Now, 
how  many  do  you  think  are  brought  within  sight  by  the 
help  of  a  powerful  telescope  t  " 

"  I  won't  guess." 

"Twenty  millions.  So  that,  whatever  the  stars  were 
made  for,  they  wltc  not  made  to  please  our  eyes.  It  is 
just  the  same  in  everything;  nothing  is  made  for  man." 

"Is  it  that  notion  which  makes  you  so  sad  for  your 
age.?"  she  asked,   w.ih  almost  maternal   solicitude.      "I 


38  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

think  astronomy  is  a  bad  study  for  you.      It  makes  you 
feel  human  insignificance  too  plainly." 

"Perhaps  it  does.  However,"  he  added  more  cheer- 
fully, "though  I  feel  the  study  to  be  one  almost  tragic  in 
its  quality,  I  hope  to  be  the  new  Copernicus.  What  he 
was  to  the  solar  system  I  aim  to  be  to  the  systems  beyond." 
Then,  by  means  of  the  instrument  at  hand,  they  traveled 
together  from  the  earth  to  Uranus  and  the  mysterious  out- 
skirts of  the  solar  system;  from  the  solar  system  to  "61 
Cv2-ni,"  the  nearest  fixed  star  in  the  northern  sky;  from 
"61  Cygni"  to  remoter  stars;  thence  to  the  remotest  vis- 
ible, till  the  ghastly  chasm  which  they  had  bridged  by  a 
fragile  line  of  sight  was  realized  by  Lady  Constantine. 

"We  are  now  traversing  distances  beside  which  the  im- 
mense Ime  stretching  from  the  earth  to  the  sun  is  but  an 
invisible  point,"  said  the  youth.  "When,  just  now,  «'e 
had  reached  a  planet  whose  remoteness  is  a  hundred  times 
the  remoteness  of  the  sun  from  the  earth,  we  were  only 
a  two  thousandth  part  of  the  journey  to  the  spot  at  which 
we  have  optically  aimed  now." 

"Oh,  pray  don't;  it  overpowers  me  !  "  she  replied,   not 
without  seriousness.      "It   makes  me  feel   that  it  is  not 
*  worth  while  to  live;  it  quite  annihilates  me." 

"If  it  annihilates  your  ladyship  to  roam  over  these 
yawning  spaces  just  once,  think  how  it  must  annihilate 
me  to  be,  as  it  were,  in  constant  suspension  amid  them 
night  after  night.'' 

"Yes.  It  was  not  really  this  subject  that  I  came  to 
see  you  upon,  INIr.  St.  Cleeve,"  she  began  a  second  time. 
"It  was  a  persona,l  matter. " 

'  I  am  listening,  Lad}-  Constantine,'" 


TJVO    ON  A    TOWER.  39 

"I  will  lellityuu.  Vet  no, — not  this  moment.  Let 
us  finish  this  grand  subject  first;  it  dwarfs  mine.  "  It  would 
have  been  difficult  to  judge  from  her  accents  whether  she 
were  afraid  to  broach  her  own  matter,  or  really  interested 
in  his.  Or  a  certain  youthful  pride  that  he  evidenced  at 
being  the  elucidator  of  such  a  large  theme,  and  at  having 
drawn  her  there  to  hear  and  observe  it,  may  have  inclined 
her  to  indulge  him  for  kindness'  sake. 

Thereupon  he  took  exception  to  her  use  of  the  word, 
"grand"  as  descriptive  of  the  actual  universe.  "The 
imaginary  picture  of  the  sky  as  the  concavity  of  a  dome 
whose  base  extends  from  horizon  to  horizon  of  our  earth 
is  grand,  simply  grand,  and  I  wish  I  had  never  got  beyond 
looking  at  it  in  that  way.      But  the  actual  sky  is  a  horror." 

"A  new  view  of  our  old  friends,  the  stars,"  she  said, 
smiling  up  at  them. 

"But  such  an  obviously  true  one  !  You  would  hardly 
think,  al  first,  that  horrid  monsters  lie  up  there,"  said  the 
young  man,  "  waiting  to  be  discovered  by  any  moderately 
penetrating  mind, — monsters  to  which  those  of  the  oceans 
bear  no  sort  of  comparison. " 

"  What  monsters  may  they  be  } '' 

"The  monsters  called  Immensities.  Until  a  person  has 
thought  out  the  stars  and  their  interspaces,  he  has  hardly 
learnt  that  there  are  things  much  more  terrible  than  mon- 
sters of  shape,  namely,  monsters  of  magnitude  without 
known  shape.  Such  monsters  are  the  voids  and  waste 
places  of  the  sky.  Look,  for  instance,  at  those  pieces  of 
darkness  in  the  jNIilky  Way,"  he  went  on,  pointing  with 
his  finger  to  where  the  galaxy  stretched  across  over  their 
heads  with  the  luinin.Qusness  of  a  frosted  web.^     "  You  se^ 


40  TWO    ON   A     TOWER. 

that  dark  opening  in  it  near  the  Swan  ?  There  is  a  stul 
more  remarkable  one  south  of  the  equator,  called  the  Coal 
Sack,  as  a  sort  of  nickname  that  has  a  farcical  force  from 
its  very  inadequacy.  In  these  our  sight  plunges  quite  be- 
yond any  twinkler  we  have  yet  visited.  Those  are  deep 
wells  for  the  human  mind  to  let  itself  down  into,  leave 
alone  the  human  body!  and  think  of  the  side  caverns  and 
secondary  abysses  to  nght  and  left  as  you  pass  on." 

Lady  Constantine  was  seriously  impressed. 

He  tried  to  give  her  yet  another  idea  of  the  size  of  the 
universe;  never  was  there  a  more  ardent  endeavor  to  bring 
down  the  immeasurable  to  human  comprehension !  By 
figures  of  speech  and  apt  comparisons  he  took  her  mind 
into  leading-strings,  compelling  her  to  follow  him  into  wil- 
dernesses of  which  she  had  never  in  her  life  even  realized 
the  existence.  "There  is  a  size  at  which  dignity  begins," 
he  exclaimed:  "further  on  there  is  a  size  at  which  gran- 
deur begins;  further  on  there  is  a  size  at  which  solemnity 
begins;  further  on,  a  size  at  which  awfulness  begins;  fur- 
ther on,  a  size  at  which  ghastiiness  begins.  That  size 
faintly  approaches  the  size  of  the  stellar  universe.  So  am 
I  not  right  in  saying  that  those  minds  who  exert  their  im- 
aginative powers  to  bury  themselves  in  the  depths  of  that 
universe  merely  strain  their  faculties  to  gain  a  new  horror?  ' 

Standing,  as  she  stood,  in  the  presence  of  the  stellar  uni- 
verse, under  the  very  eyes  of  the  constellations,  Lady  Con- 
stantine apprehended  something  of  the  argument. 

"And  to  add  a  new  weirdness  to  what  the  sky  possesses 
in  its  size  and  formlessness,  there  is  added  the  quality  of 
aecay.  For  all  the  wonder  of  these  everlasting  stars,  eter- 
nal spheres,  and  what  not,  they  are  not  everlasting,   they 


TIVO    OAT  A     TOWER.  41 

are  not  eternal;  they  burn  out  like  candles.  You  see  that 
dying  one  in  the  body  of  the  Great  Bear  ?  Two  centuries 
ago  it  was  as  bright  as  the  others.  The  senses  may  be- 
come terrified  by  plunging  among  them  as  they  are,  but 
there  is  a  pitifulness  even  in  their  glory.  Imagine  them 
all  extinguished,  and  your  mind  feeling  its  way  through 
a  heaven  of  total  darkness,  occasionally  striking  against 
the  black,  invisible  cinders  of  those  stars.  ...  If  you 
are  cheerful,  and  wish  to  remain  so,  leave  the  study  of 
astronomy  alone.  Of  all  the  sciences,  it  alone  deserves 
the  character  of  the  terrible.  ' 

"  I  am  not  altogether  cheerful." 

"Then,  if,  on  the  other  hand,  you  are  restless,  worried 
by  your  worldly  affairs,  and  anxious  about  the  future, 
study  astronomy  at  once.  Your  troubles  will  be  reduced 
amazingly.  But  \our  study  will  reduce  them  in  a  singular 
way.  By  reducing  the  importance  of  everything.  So  that 
the  science  is  still  terrible  even  as  a  panacea.  It  is  quite 
impossible  to  think  at  all  adequately  of  the  sky,  of  what 
the  sky  substantially  is,  without  feeling  it  as  a  juxtaposed 
nightmare,  which  it  is  better  for  men  to  forget  than  to 
bear  clearly  in  mind.  But  you  say  the  stars  were  not 
really  what  you  came  to  see  me  about.  What  was  it, 
may  I  ask.  Lady  Constantine }" 

She  mused,  and  sighed,  and  turned  to  him  with  some- 
thing of  the  pathetic  in  her  mien.  "The  immensity  of 
the  subject  you  have  engaged  me  on  has  completely  crushed 
my  subject  out  of  me.  Yours  is  celestial;  mine,  lament- 
ably human  !     And  the  less  must  give  way  to  the  greater." 

"But  is  it,  in  a  human  sense,  and  apart  from  macro- 
Cosrnic  magnitudes,   important.?"  he  inquired,  at  last  at- 


42  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

traded  by  her  manner;  for  he  began  to  perceive,  in  spue 
of  his  prepossession,  that  she  had  really  something  on  her 
mind. 

"  It  is  as  important  as  personal  troubles  usually  are." 

Notwithstanding  her  preconceived  notion  of  coming  to 
Swithin  as  employer  to  dependent,  as  chatelaine  to  page, 
she  was  falling  into  confidential  intercourse  with  him. 
His  vast  and  romantic  endeavors  lent  him  a  personal 
force  and  charm  which  she  could  not  but  apprehend.  In 
the  presence  of  the  immensides  that  his  young  mind  had 
as  it  were,  brought  down  from  above  to  hers,  they  becan  e 
uncon.sciously  equal.  There  was,  moreover,  an  inborn 
liking  in  Lady  Constantine  to  dwell  less  on  her  permanent 
position  as  a  county  lady  than  on  her  passing  emotions 
as  a  woman. 

"I  will  postpone  the  matter  I  came  to  charge  you  with," 
she  resumed,  smiling.  "I  must  reconsider  it.  Now  I 
will  return." 

''Allow  me  to  show  you  out  through  the  trees  and 
across  the  field  }  " 

She  said  neither  a  distinct  yes  nor  no;  and,  descending 
the  tower,  they  threaded  the  firs  and  crossed  the  plowed 
field.  By  an  odd  coincidence  he  remarked,  when  they 
drew  near  the  Great  House,  "  You  may  possibly  be  inter- 
esteil  in  knowing,  Lady  Constantine,  that  that  medium- 
sized  star  you  see  over  there,  low  down  in  the  south,  is 
precisely  over  Sir  Blount  Constantine's  head  in  the  middle 
of  Africa. " 

"  How  very  strange  that  you  should  have  said  so  !  "  she 
answered.  ' '  You  have  broached  for  me  the  very  subject 
1  had  com.e  to  speak  of. " 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  43 

"On  a  domestic  matter?"  he  said,  with  surprise. 

"Yes.  What  a  small  matter  it  seems  now,  after  our 
astronomical  stupendousness  !  and  yet  on  my  \va}-  to  you 
it  so  far  transcended  the  ordinary  matters  of  my  life  as  the 
subject  you  have  led  me  up  to  transcends  this.  But," 
with  a  little  laugh,  "  I  will  endeavor  to  sink  down  to  such 
ephemeral  trivialities  as  human  tragedy,  and  explain,  since 
I  have  come.  The  point  is,  I  want  a  helper:  no  woman 
ever  wanted  one  more.  For  days  I  have  wanted  a  trusty 
friend  who  couUl  go  on  a  secret  errand  for  me.  It  is 
necessary  that  my  messenger  should  be  educated,  should 
be  intelligent,  should  be  silent  as  the  grave.  Do  you  give 
me  your  solemn  promise  as  to  the  last  point,  if  I  confide 
in  you  ?  " 

"  Most  emphatically,  Lady  Constantine." 

"Your  right  hand  upon  the  compact." 

He  gave  his  hand,  and  raised  hers  to  his  lips.  In  addi- 
tion to  his  respect  for  her  as  the  lady  of  the  manor,  there 
was  the  admiration  of  eighteen  years  for  twenty-six  in  such 
relations. 

"I  trust  you,"  she  said.  "Now,  beyond  the  above 
conditions,  it  was  specially  necessary  that  my  agent  should 
have  known  my  husband  well  by  sight  when  he  was  at 
home.  For  the  errand  is  concerning  my  husband;  I  am 
much  disturbed  at  what  I  have  heard  about  him." 

"  I  am  indeed  sorry  to  know  it." 

"There  are  only  two  people  in  the  parish  who  fulfill  all 
the  conditions, — Mr.  Torkingham,  and  yourself  I  sent 
for  Mr.  Torkingham,  and  he  came.  I  could  not  tell  him. 
I  felt  at  the  last  moment  that  he  wouldn't  do.  I  have 
come  to  you  because  I  think  you  will  do.      This  is  it:  my 


44  rtVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

husband  has  led  me  and  all  the  world  to  believe  that  he  is 
in  Africa,  hunting  lions.  I  have  had  a  mysterious  letter 
informing  me  that  he  has  been  seen  in  London,  in  very 
peculiar  circumstances.  The  truth  of  this  I  want  ascer- 
tained.    Will  you  go  on  the  journey }  " 

"Personally,  I  would  go  to  the  end  of  the  world  for 
you,  Lady  Constantine;  but " — 

"No  buts!" 

' '  How  can  I  leave  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"I  am  preparing  a  work  on  variable  stars.  There  is 
one  of  these  which  I  have  exceptionally  observed  for  sev- 
eral months,  and  on  this  my  great  theory  is  mainly  based. 
It  has  been  hitherto  called  irregular;  but  I  have  detected 
a  periodicity  in  its  so-called  irregularities  which,  if  proved, 
would  add  some  very  valuable  facts  to  those  known  on 
this  subject,  one  of  the  most  interesting,  perplexing,  and 
suggestive  in  the  whole  field  of  astronomy.  Now,  to 
clinch  my  theory,  there  should  be  a  sudden  variation  this 
week — or  at  latest  next  week, — and  I  have  to  watch  ever}' 
night  not  to  let  it  pass.  You  see  my  reason  for  declin- 
ing, Lady  Constantine. " 

"  Young  men  are  always  so  selfish  ! ''  she  said. 

"It  might  ruin  the  whole  of  my  year's  labor  if  I  leave 
now!"  returned  the  youth,  greatly  hurt.  "Could  you 
not  wait  a  fortnight  longer.'"' 

"No, — no.  Don't  think  that  I  have  asked  you,  pray. 
I  have  no  wish  to  inconvenience  you." 

"  I>ady  Constantine,  don't  be  angry  with  me!  Will 
you  do  this, — watch  the  star  for  me  while  I  am  gone? 
If  you  are  prepared  to  do  it  effectually,  I  will  go. " 


TWO    OAT  A    roWER.  45 

"Will  it  be  much  trouble?" 

"It  will  De  some  trouble.  You  would  have  to  come 
here  every  clear  evening  about  nine.  If  the  sky  were  not 
clear,  then  you  would  have  to  come  at  four  in  the  morn- 
ing, should  the  clouds  have  dispersed." 

"Could  not  the  telescope  be  brought  to  my  hou.se.?" 

Swi'thin  shook  his  head.  "Perhaps  you  did  not  ob- 
serve its  real  size,— that  it  was  fixed  to  a  frame-work.' 
I  could  not  afford  to  buy  an  equatorial,  and  I  have  been 
obliged  to  rig  up  an  apparatus  of  my  own  devising,  so 
as  to  make  it  in  some  measure  answer  the  purpose  of 
an  equatorial.  It  could  be  moved,  but  I  would  rather 
not  touch  it." 

"Well,  I'll  go  to  the  telescope,"  she  went  on,  with  an 
emphasis  that  was  not  wholly  playful.  "You  are  the 
most  ungallant  youth  I  ever  met  with;  but  I  suppose  I 
must  set  that  down  to  science.  Yes,  I'll  go  to  the  tower 
at  nine  every  night. " 

"And  alone?  I  should  prefer  to  keep  my  pursuits 
there  unknown." 

"And  alone,"  she  answered,  quite  overborne  by  his 
inflexibility. 

"You  will  not  miss  the  morning  observation,  if  it 
should  be  necessary  ? " 

' '  I  have  given  my  word. " 

"And  I  give  mine.  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  have 
been  so  exacting  I "  He  spoke  with  that  sudden  emo- 
tional consciousness  of  his  own  transitoriness  which  made 
these  alternations  of  mood  possible.  "I  will  go  any- 
where— do  anything  for  you  —  this  moment — to-mor- 
row,   or  at  anv   time.    'But   vou    must    return   with    me 


46  TJVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

to    the    tower,    and    let    me    show    you    the    observing 
process. " 

They  retraced  their  steps,  the  tender  hoar-frost  taking 
the  imprint  of  their  feet,  and  two  stars  in  the  Twins  look- 
ing down  upon  their  two  persons  through  the  trees,  as 
if  those  two  persons  could  bear  some  sort  of  comparison 
with  them.  On  the  tower  the  instructions  were  given. 
When  all  was  over,  and  he  was  again  conducting  her  to 
the  Great  House,  she  said,   "When  can  you  start.?" 

"Now,"  said  Swithin. 

"So  much  the  better.      You  shall  go  up  by  the  night 
mail." 


CHAPTER   V. 

ON  the  third  morning  after  the  young  man's  departure, 
Lady  Constantine  opened  the  post-bag  anxiously. 
Though  she  had  risen  before  four  o'clock,  and  crossed  to 
the  tower  through  the  gray  half-light,  when  every  blade 
and  twig  was  furred  with  rime,  she  felt  no  languor.  Ex- 
pectation could  banish  at  cockcrow  the  eye-heaviness  which 
apathy  had  been  unable  to  disperse  all  the  day  long. 

There  was,  as  she  had  hoped,  a  letter  from  Swithin  St. 
Cleeve. 

Dear  Lady  Constantine, — I  have  quite  succeeded  in  my  mis- 
sion, and  shall  return  to-morrow  at  ten  P.  M.  I  hope  you  have  not 
failed  in  the  observations.  Watching  the  star  through  an  opera-glass 
Sunday  night,  I  fancied  some  change  had  taken  place,  but  I  could 
not  make  myself  sure.  Your  memoranda  for  that  night  I  await  with 
impatience.  Please  don't  neglect  to  write  down,  at  the  moment,  all 
remarkable  appearances  both  as  to  color  and  intensity;  and  be  very 
exact  as  to  time,  which  correct  in  the  way  I  showed  you. 

I  am,  dear  Lady  Constantine, 
Yours  most  faithfully, 

Swithin  St.  Cleeve. 

Not  another  word  in  the   letter  about  his  errand;  his 
m'.nd  ran  on  nothing  but  this  astronomical  subject.      He 


48  TIVO    OM  A    TOWER. 

hai.i  succeeded  in  his  mission,  and  yet  he  did  not  even  say 
ves  or  no  to  the  great  question, — whether  or  not  her  hus- 
band was  masquerading  in  London  at  the  address  she  had 
given.      "  Was  ever  anything  so  provoking !  "  she  cried. 

However,  "the  time  was  not  long  to  wait.  His  way 
homeward  would  lie  within  a  stone's-throw  of  the  manor- 
house,  and  though  for  certain  reasons  she  had  forbidden 
him  to  call  at  the  late  houi  of  his  arrival,  she  could  easily 
intercept  him  in  the  avenue.  At  twenty  minutes  past  ten 
she  went  out  into  the  drive,  and  stood  in  the  dark.  Seven 
minutes  later  she  heard  his  footstep,  and  saw  his  outline  in 
the  slit  of  light  between  the  avenue-trees.  He  had  a  valise 
in  one  hand,  a  great-coat  on  his  arm,  and  under  his  arm 
a  parcel  which  seemed  to  be  very  precious,  from  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  held  it. 

"  Lady  Constantine?  "  he  asked  softly. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  in  her  excitement  holding  out  both 
her  hands,  though  he  had  plainly  not  expected  her  to  offer 
one. 

' '  Did  you  watch  the  star }  " 

"I'll  tell  you  everything  in  detail;  but,  pray,  your  er- 
rand first } " 

"Yes,  it's  all  right.  Did  you  watch  every  night, — 
not  missing  one.?" 

"I  forgot  to  go — twice,"  she  murmured  contritely. 

"Oh,  Lady  Constantine  1  "  he  cried  in  dismay.  "How 
could  you  serve  me  so  !  what  shall  I  do  !  " 

"  Please  forgive  me!  Indeed,  I  could  not  help  it.  I 
had  watched  and  watched,  and  nothing  happened,  and 
somehow  my  vigilance  relaxed  when  I  found  nothing  was 
iikel)-  to  take  place  in  the  star." 


TtVO    OJV  A    TOWER.  49 

"But  the  very  circumstance  of  it  not  having  happened 
made  it  all  the  more  Hkely  every  day  ! " 

"Have  you — seen  " — she  began,  after  a  silence. 

Swithin  sighed,  lowered  his  thought  to  sublunary  things, 
and  told  briefly  the  story  of  his  journey.  Sir  Dlount  Con- 
stantine  was  not  in  London  at  the  address  which  had  been 
anonymously  sent  her.  It  was  a  mistake  of  identity.  The 
person  who  had  been  seen  there  Swithin  had  sought  out. 
He  resembled  Sir  Blount  strongly;  but  he  was  a  stranger. 

"How  can  I  reward  you!"  she  exclaimed,  when  he 
had  done. 

"In  no  way  but  by  giving  me  your  good  wishes  in 
what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  on  my  own  account."  He 
spoke  in  tones  of  mysterious  exultation.  "This  parcel 
is  going  to  make  my  fame  !  " 

"What  is  it.'" 

"A  huge  object-glass  for  the  great  telescope  I  am  so 
busy  about !  Such  a  magnificent  aid  to  science  has  never 
entered  this  county  before,  you  may  depend  !  " 

He  produced  from  under  his  arm  the  carefully  cuddled- 
up  package,  which  was  in  shape  a  round  flat  disk,  like 
a  dinner-plate,  tied  in  paper. 

Proceeding  to  explain  his  plans  to  her  more  fully,  he 
walked  with  her  towards  the  door  by  which  she  had 
emerged.  It  was  a  little  side  wicket  through  a  wall  di- 
viding the  open  park  from  the  garden  terraces.  Here  for 
a  moment  he  placed  his  valise  and  parcel  on  the  coping 
of  the  stone  balustrade,  till  he  had  bidden  her  farewell. 
Then  he  turned,  and  in  laying  hold  of  his  bag  by  the 
dim  light  pushed  the  parcel  over  the  parapet.  It  fell 
upon  the  paved  walk  ten  or  a  dozen  feet  beneath. 


50  rtVO    CA*"  A    TOIVEK. 

"Oh,  good  heavens!" 

"What?" 

"My  object-glass  broken  !  " 

"Is  it  of  much  value?" 

"It  cost  all  I  possess." 

He  ran  round  by  the  steps  to  the  lower  lawn,  Lady 
Constantine  following,  as  he  continued,  "It  is  a  mag- 
nificent six-inch  first  quality  object  lens.  I  took  advan- 
tage of  my  journey  to  London  to  get  it.  I  have  been 
six  weeks  making  the- tube,  of  milled  board;  and  as  I 
had  not  enough  money  by  twelve  pounds  for  the  lens, 
I  borrowed  it  of  my  grandmother  out  of  her  last  annuity 
payment.     What  can  be — can  be  done  !  " 

"Perhaps  it  is  not  broken." 

He  felt  on  the  ground,  found  the  parcel,  and  shook  it. 
A  clicking  noise  issued  from  inside.  Swithin  smote  his 
forehead  with  his  hand,  and  walked  up  and  down  like 
a  mad  fellow. 

"My  telescope!  I  have  waited  nine  months  for  this 
lens.  Now  the  possibility  of  setting  up  a  really  powerful 
instrument  is  over !  It  is  too  cruel— how  could  it  hap- 
pen !  .  .  .  .  Lady  Constantine,  I  am  ashamed  of  myself, 
— before  you.  Oh,  but,  Lady  Constantine,  if  you  only 
knew  what  it  is  to  a  person  engaged  in  science  to  have 
the  means  of  clinching  a  theory  snatched  away  at  the  last 
moment !  It  is  I  against  the  world;  and  when  the  world  has 
accidents  on  its  side  in  addition  to  its  natural  strength,  what 
chance  for  me  !  "  The  young  astronomer  leant  against  the 
wall,  and  was  silent.  His  misery  was  of  an  intensity  and 
kind  with  that  of  Palissy,  in  these  struggles  with  an  adverse 
fate. 


TIFO    ON  A     TOWER.  51 

"Don't  mind  it, — pray  don't!"  said  Lady  Con^tantine, 
with  deep  feeling.  "It  is  dreadfully  unfortunate  !  You 
have  my  whole  sympathy.     Can  it  be  mended  ! " 

"Mended, — no,  no!" 

"Cannot  you  do  with  your  present  one  a  little  longer.?" 

"It  is  altogether  inferior,  cheap,  and  bad  !  " 

"I'll  get  you  another, — yes,  indeed,  I  will !  Allow  me 
to  get  you  another  as  soon  as  possible.  I'll  do  anything 
to  assist  you  out  of  your  trouble;  for  I  am  most  anxious 
to  see  you  famous.  I  know  you  will  be  a  great  astron- 
omer, in  spite  of  this  rnishap !  Com.e,  say  I  may  get  a 
new  one. " 

Swithin  took  her  hand.  He  could  not  trust  himself 
to  speak. 

Some  days  later  a  little  box  of  peculiar  kind  came  to 
tlie  Great  House.  It  was  addressed  to  Lady  Constantine, 
"with  great  care."  She  had  it  partly  opened  and  taken 
to  her  own  little  writing-room;  and  after  lunch,  when  she 
had  dressed  for  walking,  she  took  from  the  box  a  paper 
parcel  like  the  one  which  had  met  with  the  accident. 
This  she  hid  under  her  mantle,  as  if  she  had  stolen  it; 
and,  going  out  slowly  across  the  lawn,  passed  through 
the  little  door  before  spoken  of,  and  was  soon  hastening 
in  the  direction  of  the  Rings-Hill  column. 

There  was  a  bright  sun  overhead  on  that  afternoon  of 
early  spring,  and  its  rays  shed  an  unusual  warmth,  though 
shady  places  still  retained  the  look  and  feel  of  winter. 
Rooks  were  already  beginning  to  build  new  nests  or  to 
mend  up  old  ones,  and  clamorously  called  in  neighbors 
to  give  opinions  on  difficulties  in  their  architecture.  Lady 
Constantine  swerved  once  from  her  j)ath,  as  if  she  had 


52  TJVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

decided  to  go  to  the  homestead  where  Swithin  lived  but 
on  second  thoughts  she  bent  her  steps  to  the  column. 
Drawing  near  it,  she  looked  up;  but  on  account  of  the 
height  of  the  parapet  nobody  could  be  seen  thereon  who 
did  not  stand  on  tiptoe.  She  thought,  however,  that  her 
young  friend  might  possibly  see  her,  if  he  were  there,  and 
come  down;  and  that  he  was  there  she  soon  ascertained 
by  finding  the  door  unlocked,  and  the  key  inside.  No 
movement,  however,  reached  her  ears  from  above,  and 
she  began  to  ascend. 

iMeanwhile  affairs  at  the  top  of  the  column  had  pro- 
gressed as  follows.  The  afternoon  being  exceptionally 
fine,  Swithin  had  ascended  about  two  o'clock,  and,  seating 
himself  at  the  little  table  which  he  had  constructed  on 
the  spot;  he  began  reading  over  his  notes  and  examining 
some  astronomical  journals  that  had  reached  him  in  the 
morning.  The  sun  blazed  into  the  hollow  roof-space  as 
into  a  tube,  and  the  sides  kept  out  every  breeze.  Though 
the  month  was  February  below,  it  was  May  in  the  abacus 
of  the  column.  This  state  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the 
fact  that  on  the  previous  night  he  had  pursued  his  obser- 
vations till  past  two  o'clock,  produced  in  him  at  the  end 
of  half  an  hour  an  overpowering  inclination  to  sleep. 
Spreading  on  the  lead-work  a  thick  rug,  which  he  kept 
up  there,  he  flung  himself  down  against  the  parapet,  and 
was  soon  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness. 

It  was  about  ten  minutes  afterwards  that  a  soft  rustle 
of  silken  clothes  came  up  the  spiral  staircase,  and,  hesi- 
tadng  onwards,  reached  the  orifice,  where  appeared  the 
fonn  of  Lady  Constantine.  She  did  not  at  first  perceive 
that  he  was  present,  and  stood  still  to  reconrioiter.     Her 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  53 

eye  glanced  over  his  telescope,  now  wiajjped  up,  his  table 
and  papers,  his  observing-chair,  and  his  contrivances  for 
makinor  the  best  of  a  deficiency  of  instruments.  All 
was  warm,  sunny,  and  silent,  excej^t  that  a  solitary  bee, 
which  had  somehow  got  within  the  hollow  of  the  abacus, 
was  singing  round  inquiringly,  unable  to  discern  thai 
ascent  was  the  only  mode  of  escape.  In  another  moment 
she  beheld  the  astronomer,  lying  in  the  sun  like'^a  sailor 
in  the  main-top. 

Lady  Constantine  coughed  slightly:  he  did  not  awake. 
She  then  entered,  and,  drawing  the  parcel  from  beneath 
her  cloak,  placed  it  on  the  table;  after  this  she  waited, 
looking  for  a  long  time  at  his  sleeping  face,  whi'-h  had 
a  very  interesting  appearance.  She  seemed  reluctant  tc 
leave,  yet  wanted  resolution  to  wake  him;  and  penciling 
his  name  on  the  parcel,  she  withdrew  to  the  staircise, 
where  the  brushing  of  her  dress  decreased  to  silence  as 
she  receded  round  and  round  on  her  way  to  the  base. 

Swithin  still  slept  on,  and  presently  the  rustle  began 
again  in  the  far-down  interior  of  the  column.  The  door 
could  be  heard  closing,  and  the  rustle  came  nearer,  show- 
ing that  she  had  shut  herself  in, — no  doubt  to  le.ssen  the 
risk  of  an  accidental  surprise  by  any  roaming  villager. 
When  Lady  Constantine  reappeared  at  the  top,  and  saw 
the  parcel  was  untouched,  and  Swithin  asleep  as  before, 
she  exhibited  some  disappointment;  but  she  did  not  retreat. 

Looking  again  at  him,  her  e_yes  became  so  sentimentally 
fixed  on  his  face  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  with- 
draw them.  There  lay,  in  the  shape  of  an  Antinous,  no 
amoroso,  no  gallant,  but  a  guileless  philosopher.  His 
parted  lips  were  lips  which  spoke,  not  of  love,  but  of  mil- 


54  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

lions  of  miles;  those  were  eyes  which  looked,  not  into  tha 
depths  of  other  eyes,  but  into  other  worlds.  Within  his 
temples  dwelt  thoughts,  not  of  woman's  looks,  but  of  stellar 
aspects  and  the  configuration  of  constellations. 

Thus,  to  his  physical  attractiveness  was  added  the  at- 
tractiveness of  mental  inaccessibility.  The  ennobling  in- 
fluence of  scientific  pursuits  was  demonstrated  by  the  spec- 
ulative purity  which  expressed  itself  in  his  eyes  whenever 
he  looked  at  her  in  speaking,  and  in  the  child-like  faults 
of  manner  which  arose  from  his  obtuseness  to  their  differ- 
ence of  sex.  He  had  never,  since  becoming  a  man,  looked 
even  so  low  as  to  the  level  of  a  Lady  Constantine.  His 
heaven  at  present  was  truly  in  the  skies,  and  not  in  that 
only  other  place  where  they  say  it  can  be  found,  in  the 
eyes  of  some  daughter  of  Eve.  Would  any  Circe  or  Ca- 
lypso— and  if  so  what  one .'' — ever  check  this  pale-haired 
scientist's  nocturnal  sailings  into  the  interminable  spaces 
overhead,  and  send  all  his  mighty  calculations  on  cosmic 
force  and  stellar  fire  flying  into  Limbo.?  Oh,  the  pity  of 
it,  if  such  should  be  the  case  ! 

She  became  much  absorbed  in  these  very  womanly  re- 
flections; and  at  last  Lady  Constantine  sighed,  perhaps  she 
herself  did  not  exactly  know  why.  Then  a  very  soft  ex- 
pression lighted  on  her  lips  and  eyes,  and  she  looked  at 
one  jump  seven  years  more  youthful, — quite  a  girl  in  as- 
pect, younger  than  he.  On  the  table  lay  his  implements; 
among  them  a  pair  of  scissors,  which,  to  judge  from  the 
shreds  around,  had  been  used  in  cutting  curves  in  thick 
paper,  for  some  calculating  process. 

What  whim,  agitation,  or  attraction  prompted  the  im- 
pulse nobody  knows;  but  she  took  the  scissors,  and,  bend- 


TWO    ON  A     TOWER.  55 

ing  over  the  sleeping  youth,  cut  ofT  one  of  ttie  curls,  01 
rather  crooks, — for  they  hardly  reached  a  curl, — into  which 
each  lock  of  his  hair  chose  to  twist  itself  in  the  last  inch  of 
its  length.  The  hair  fell  upon  the  rug.  She  picked  it  up 
quickly,  returned  the  scissors  to  the  table,  and,  as  if  her 
dignity  had  suddenly  become  ashamed  of  her  fantasies, 
hastened  through  the  door,  and  descended  the  staircase. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

T^7HEX  his  nap  had  naturally  exhausted  itself,  Swithin 
*  ^  awoke.  He  awoke  without  any  surprise,  for  he 
not  unfrequently  gave  to  sleep  in  the  day-time  what  he 
had  stolen  from  it  in  the  night  watches.  The  first  object 
that  met  his  eyes  was  the  parcel  on  the  table,  and,  seeing 
his  name  inscribed  thereon,  he  made  no  scruple  to  open 
it.  The  sun  flashed  upon  a  lens  of  surprising  magnitude, 
polished  to  such  a  smoothness  that  the  eye  could  scarcely 
meet  its  reflections.  Here  was  a  crystal,  in  whose  depths 
were  to  be  seen  more  wonders  than  had  been  revealed  by 
the  crystals  of  all  the  Cagliostros. 

Swithin,  hot  with  joyousness,  took  this  treasure  to  his 
telescope  manufactory  at  the  homestead;  then  he  started 
off  for  the  Great  House.  On  gaining  its  precincts  he  felt 
shy  of  calling,  never  having  received  any  hint  or  permis- 
sion to  do  so;  while  Lady  Constantine's  mysterious  man- 
ner of  leaving  the  parcel  seemed  to  demand  a  like  myste- 
riousness  in  his  approaches  to  her.  All  the  afternoon  he 
lingered  about  uncertainly,  in  the  hope  of  intercepting  her 
on  her  return  from  a  drive,  occasionally  walking  with  an 
indifferent  lunge  across  glades  commanded  by  the  win- 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  57 

dows,  that  if  she  were  in-doors  she  might  linow  he  was 
near.  But  she  did  not  show  herself  during  the  daylight. 
Still  impressed  by  her  playful  secrecy,  he  carried  on  the 
same  idea  after  dark,  by  returning  to  the  house,  and  pass- 
ing through  the  garden  door  on  to  the  lawn  front,  where 
he  sat  on  the  parapet  that  breasted  the  terrace.  She  fre- 
quently came  out  here  for  a  melancholy  saunter  after  din- 
ner, and  to-night  w-as  such  an  occasion.  Swithin  went 
forward,  and  met  her  at  nearly  the  spot  where  he  had 
dropped  the  lens  some  nights  earlier. 

"I  have  come  to  see  you.  Lady  Constantine.  How 
did  the  glass  get  on  my  table .' '' 

She  laughed  as  lightly  as  a  girl;  that  he  had  come  to 
her  in  this  way  was  plainly  no  offense  thus  far. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  dropped  from  the  clouds  by  a  bird,'" 
she  said. 

"Why  should  you  be  so  good  to  me.'  Whatever  dis- 
coveries result  from  this  shall  be  ascribed  to  you  as  much 
as  to  me.     Where  should  I  have  been  without  your  gift.'" 

"You  would  possibly  have  accomplished  your  purpose 
just  the  same,  and  have  been  so  much  the  nobler  for  your 
struggle  against  ill-luck.  I  hope  that  now  you  will  be 
able  to  proceed  with  your  large  telescope  as  if  nothing  had 
happened." 

"Oh  yes,  I  will,  certainly.  I  am  afraid  I  showed  too 
much  feeling,  the  reverse  of  stoical,  when  the  accident  oc- 
curred.    That  was  not  very  noble  of  me." 

"There  is  nothing  unnatural  in  such  feeling  at  your 
age.  When  you  are  older  you  will  smile  at  such  moods, 
and  at  the  mishaps  that  gave  rise  to  them." 

"Ah,  I  perceive  you  think  me  weak  in  the  extreme. 


58  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

But  you  will  never  realize  that  an  incident  which  filled  but 
a  degree  in  the  circle  of  your  thoughts  covered  the  whole 
circumference  of  mine.  No  person  can  see  exactly  what 
and  where  another's  horizon  is." 

They  soon  parted,  and  she  re-entered  the  house,  where 
she  sat  reflecting  for  some  time,  till  she  seemed  to  fear 
that  she  had  wounded  his  feelings.  She  awoke  in  the 
night,  and  thought  the  same  thing  more  intensely.  When 
it  was  morning,  she  looked  across  at  the  tower,  and,  sit- 
ting down,  wrote  the  following  note: — 

Dear  Mr.  St.  Cleeve, — I  cannot  allow  you  to  remain  under  the 
impression  that  I  despised  your  scientific  endeavors  in  speaking  as  I 
did  last  night.  I  think  you  were  too  sensitive  to  my  remark.  But 
perhaps  you  were  agitated  with  the  labors  of  the  day,  and  I  fear  thai 
watching  so  late  at  night  must  make  you  very  weary.  If  I  can  help 
you  again,  please  let  me  know.  I  never  realized  the  grandeur  of 
astronomy  till  you  showed  me  how  to  do  so.  Also  let  me  know 
about  the  new  telescope.  Come  and  see  me  at  any  lime.  After  your 
great  kindness  in  being  my  messenger  I  can  never  do  enough  for  you. 
I  wish  you  had  a  mother  or  sister,  and  pity  your  loneliness !  I  am 
lonely,  too. 

Yours  truly, 

ViVIETTE   CONSTANTINE. 

She  was  so  anxious  that  he  should  get  this  letter  the 
same  day  that  she  ran  across  to  the  column  with  it  during 
the  morning,  preferring  to  be  her  own  emissary  in  so  cu- 
rious a  case.  The  door,  as  she  had  expected,  was  locked; 
and,  slipping  the  letter  under  it,  she  went  home  again. 
During  lunch  her  ardor  in  the  cause  of  Swithin's  hurt 
feelings  cooled  down,  till  she  exclaimed  to  herself,  as 
she  sat  at  her  lonely  table,  "What  could  have  possessed 
me  to  write  in  that  way !  " 


TIVO    ON'  A    TOWER.  59 

After  lunch  she  went  faster  to  the  tower  than  she  had 
gone  in  the  early  morning,  and  peeped  eagerly  into  the 
chink  under  the  door.  She  could  discern  no  letter,  and 
on  trying  the  latch  found  that  the  door  would  open.  The 
letter  was  gone,  Swithin  having  obviously  arrived  in  the 
interval. 

She  blushed  a  blush  which  seemed  to  say,  "I  am  get- 
ting foolishly  interested  in  this  young  man."  She  had, 
in  short,  in  her  own  opinion,  somewhat  overstepped  the 
bounds  of  dignity.  Her  instincts  did  not  square  well 
with  the  formalities  of  her  existence,  and  she  walked  home 
despondently. 

Had  a  concert,  bazaar,  lecture,  or  Dorcas  meeting 
required  the  patronage  and  support  of  Lady  Constantine 
at  this  juncture,  the  circumstance  would  probably  have 
been  sufficient  to  divert  her  mind  from  Swithin  St.  Cleeve 
and  astronomy  for  some  little  time.  But  as  none  of  these 
incidents  were  within  the  range  of  expectation, — Welland 
House  anil  parish  lying  far  from  towns  and  watering- 
places, — the  void  in  her  outer  life  continued,  and  with 
it  the  voi;:  'w  her  inner  life.  The  youth  had  not  answered 
her  letter;  leilher  had  he  called  upon  her,  in  response 
to  the  invitation  she  had  regretted,  with  the  rest  of  the 
epi>t:e.  as  being  somewhat  too  warmly  informal  for  black 
uuJ  while.  To  speak  tenderly  to  him  was  one  thing, 
to  write  another, — that  was  her  feeling  immediately  after 
the  event;  but  his  countermove  of  silence  and  avoidance, 
though  probably  the  result  of  pure  unconsciousness  on 
his  part,  completely  dispersed  such  self-considerations 
now.  Her  eyes  never  fell  upon  the  Rings-Hill  column 
without  a  solicitous  wonder  arising  as  to  what  he  was 


6o  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER, 

doing.  A  natural  woman,  she  would  assume  the  remo- 
test possibility  to  be  the  most  likely  contingency,  if  the 
possibility  had  the  recommendation  of  being  tragical;  and 
she  now  feared  that  something  was  wrong  with  Swithin 
St.  Cleeve.  Yet  there  was  not  the  least  doubt  that  he 
had  become  so  immersed  in  the  business  of  the  new  tel- 
escope as  to  forget  everything  else. 

On  Sunday,  between  the  services,  she  walked  to  Little 
Welland,  chiefly  for  the  sake  of  giving  a  run  to  a  house- 
dog, a  large  black  retriever,  of  whom  she  was  fond.  The 
distance  was  but  short;  and  she  returned  along  a  narrow 
lane,  divided  from  the  river  by  a  hedge,  through  whose 
leafless  twigs  the  ripples  flashed  silver  lights  into  her  eyes. 
Here  she  discovered  Swithin,  leaning  over  a  gate,  his 
eyes  bent  upon  the  stream.  The  dog  first  attracted  his 
attention;  then  he  heard  her,  and  turned  round.  She 
had  never  seen  him  looking  so  despondent. 

"You  have  never  called,  though  I  invited  you,"  said 
Lady  Constantine. 

' '  My  great  telescope  won't  work. " 

"T  am  sorry  for  that.  So  it  has  made  you  quite  for- 
get me } " 

"Ah,  yes;  you  wrote  me  a  very  kind  letter,  which  I 
ought  to  have  answered.  Well,  I  did  forget.  Lady  Con- 
stantine. My  new  telescope  won't  work;  and  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  about  it  at  all ! " 

"Can  I  assist  you  any  further.?" 

' '  No,  I  fear  not.     Besides,  you  have  assisted  me  already. " 

"What  would  really  help  you  out  of  all  your  difficulties.? 
Something  would,  surely.?" 

He  shook  his  head. 


TfVO    ON  A     TOWER.  6 1 

"There  must  be  some  solution  to  them?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  repHed,  with  a  hypothetical  gaze  into 
the  stream;  "some  solution,  of  course, — an  equatorial, 
for  instance. " 

"What's  that?" 

"Briefly,  an  impossibility.  It  is  a  splendid  instrument, 
with  an  object  lens  of,  say,  six  or  nine  inches  aperture, 
mounted  with  its  axis  parallel  to  the  earth's  axis,  and  fitted 
up  with  graduated  circles  for  denoting  right  ascensions 
and  declinations;  besides  having  special  eye-pieces,  a  finder, 
and  all  sorts  of  appliances,  clock-work  to  make  the  tel- 
escope follow  the  motion  in  right  ascension — I  cannot 
tell  you  half  the  conveniences.  Ah,  an  equatorial  is  a 
thing  indeed  ! " 

"An  equatorial  is  the  one  instrument  required  to  make 
you  quite  happy?" 

"Well,  yes." 

"I'll  see  what  I  can  do." 

"But,  Lady  Constantine,  an  equatorial  such  as  I  de- 
scribe costs  as  much  as  two  grand  pianos." 

She  was  rather  staggered  at  this  news;  but  she  rallied 
gallantly,  and  said,   "Never  mind.      I'll  make  inquiries." 

"But  it  could  not  be  put  on  the  tower  without  people 
seeing  it.  It  would  have  to  be  fixed  to  the  masonry. 
And  there  must  be  a  dome  of  some  kind  to  keep  off  the 
rain.      A  tarpaulin  might  do." 

Lady  Constantine  reflected.  "It  would  be  a  great 
busmesfr,  I  see,"  she  said.  "Though  as  f\r  as  the  fixing 
and  roofing  go,  I  would  of  course  consent  to  your  doing 
what  you  liked  with  the  old  column.  ]\Iy  workmen  could 
fix  it,  could  the\-  not?" 


62  TWO    ON  A    TOWEk. 

"Oh,  yes.  But  what  would  Sir  Blount  say,  if  he  came 
home  and  saw  the  goings-on  ? " 

Lady  Constantine  turned  aside  to  hide  a  sudden  dis- 
placement of  blood  from  her  cheek.  "Ah, — my  hus- 
band ! "  she  whispered.  ' '  I  am  just  now  going  to  church, " 
she  said.      ' '  I  will  think  of  this  matter. " 

In  church  it  was  with  Lady  Constantine  as  with  the 
Lord  Angelo  of  Vienna,  in  a  similar  situation, — Heaven 
had  her  empty  words  only,  and  her  invention  heard  not 
her  tongue.  She  soon  recovered  from  the  momentary 
consternation  into  which  she  had  fallen  at  Swithin's  abrupt 
query.  The  possibility  of  that  young  astronomer  becoming 
a  renowned  scientist  by  her  aid  was  a  thought  which  gave 
her  secret  pleasure.  The  course  of  rendering  him  instant 
material  help  began  to  have  a  great  fascination  for  her; 
it  was  a  new  and  unexpected  channel  for  her  cribbed  and 
confined  emotions.  With  experiences  so  much  wider  than 
his,  Lady  Constantine  saw  that  the  chances  were  perhaps 
a  million  to  one  against  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  ever  being 
Astronomer-Royal,  or  Astronomer-Extraordinary  of  any 
sort;  yet  the  remaining  chance  in  his  favor  was  one  of 
those  possibilities  which,  to  a  woman  of  bounding  intellect 
and  venturesome  fancy,  are  pleasanter  to  dwell  on  than 
likely  issues  that  have  no  savor  of  high  speculation  in 
them.  The  equatorial  question  was  a  great  one;  and  she 
had  caught  such  a  large  spark  from  his  enthusiasm  that 
she  could  think  of  nothing  so  piquant  as  how  to  obtain 
the  important  instrument. 

When  Tabitha  Lark  arrived  at  the  Great  House,  next 
day,  instead  of  finding  Lady  Constantine  in  bed,  she 
discovered    her  in   the    library,    poring   over  what   astro 


r^VO    OAT  A    TOWER.  63 

nomical  works  she  had  been  able  to  unearth  from  the 
shelves.  As  these  publications  were,  for  a  science  of  such 
rapid  development,  somewhat  venerable,  there  was  not 
much  help  of  a  practical  kind  to  be  gained  from  them. 
Nevertheless,  the  equatorial  retained  a  hold  upon  her 
fancy,  till  she  became  as  eager  to  see  one  on  the  Rings- 
Hill  column  as  Switliin  himself. 

The  upshot  of  it  was  that  Lady  Constantine  sent  a 
messenger  that  evening  to  Rings-Hill  Bottom,  where  the 
homestead  of  Swithin's  grandmother  was  situated,  request- 
ing the  young  man's  presence  at  the  house  at  twelve  o'clock 
next  day.  He  {promptly  returned  an  obedient  reply,  and 
the  circumstance  was  enough  to  lend  great  freshness  to 
her  manner  next  morning,  instead  of  the  leaden  air  which 
was  too  frequent  with  her  before  the  sun  reached  the  merid- 
ian, and  sometimes  after.  The  mental  room  taken  up  by  an 
idea  depends  as  largely  on  the  available  space  for  it  as 
on  its  nominal  magnitude:  in  Lady  Constantine's  life  of 
infestivity,  in  her  domestic  voids,  and  in  her  .social  dis- 
couragements, there  was  nothing  to  oust  the  lightest 
fancy.  Switliin  had,  in  fact,  arisen  as  an  attractive  little 
mterpolation  between  herself  and  despair. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

A  FOG  deformed  all  the  trees  of  the  park  that  morning; 
*■  -^  the  white  atmosphere  adhered  to  the  ground  hke  a 
fungoid  growth  from  it,  and  made  the  turfed  undulations 
look  slimy  and  raw;  but  Lady  Constantine  settled  down 
in  her  chair  to  await  the  coming  of  the  late  curate's  son, 
with  a  serenity  which  the  vast  blanks  outside  could  neither 
destroy  nor  baffle.  At  two  mmutes  to  twelve  the  door- 
bell rang,  and  a  look  overspread  the  lady's  face  that  was 
neither  maternal,  sisterly,  nor  amorous,  but  partook  in  an 
indescribable  manner  of  all  three.  The  door  was  fluno; 
open  and  tlic  young  man  was  ushered  in,  the  fog  still 
cl  nging  to  his  hair,  in  which  she  could  discern  a  little 
ni  tch  where  she  had  nipped  off  the  curl. 

A  speechlessness  that  socially  was  a  defect  in  him  was 
to  her  view  a  piquant  attribute  just  now.  He  looked  ra- 
ther alarmed.  "Lady  Constantine,  have  I  done  any- 
thing" — he  began  breadilessly,  as  he  gazed  in  her  face, 
with  parted  lips. 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not.  I  have  decided  to  do  some- 
thing,— nothing  more,"  she  said,  holding  out  licr  han  1, 


ttVO    ON  A    TOWER.  65 

wliich  he  rather  gingerly  touched.      "Don't  look  so  con- 
cerned.     Who  makes  eqiiatorials }  " 

This  remark  was  like  the  drawing  of  a  weir-hatch,  and 
she  was  speedily  inundated  with  all  she  wished  to  know- 
concerning  astronomical  opticians.  When  he  had  im- 
parted the  particulars  he  waited,  manifestly  burning  to 
know  whither  these  inquiries  tended. 

"I  am  not  going  to  buy  you  one,"  she  said,  gently. 

He  looked  as  if  he  would  laint. 

"Certainly  not.  I  did  not  wish  it.  I — I  could  not 
have  accepted  it,"  saitl  the  young  man. 

"But  I  am  going  to  buy  one  for  myself  I  lack  a 
hobby,  and  I  shall  choose  astronomy.  I  shall  fix  my 
equatorial  on  the  column." 

Swithin  brightened  up. 

"And  I  shall  let  you  have  the  use  of  it  whenever  you 
choose.  In  brief,  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  shall  be  Lady  Con- 
stantine's  Astronomer-Royal;  and  she"— 

"Shall  be  his  queen.''  The  words  came  not  much  the 
worse  for  being  uttered  only  in  the  tone  of  one  anxious  to 
complete  a  tardy  sentence. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  have  decided  to  do,"  resumed  Lady 
Constantine.      "  I  will  write  to  these  opticians  at  once." 

There  seemed  to  be  no  more  for  him  to  do  than  to 
thank  her  for  the  privilege,  whenever  it  should  be  avail- 
able, which  he  promptly  did,  and  then  made  as  if  to  go. 
But  Lady  Constantine  detained  him,  with  "Have  you  ever 
seen  my  library .''  " 

"No;  never." 

"  \\)i\  don't  say  you  would  like  to  see  it." 

"  Hill  I  .should." 


66  ftro   ON-  A    TOWEk. 

"It  is  the  third  door  on  the  right.  You  can  find  /our 
\vav  in,  and  you  can  stay  there  as  long  as  you  Hke. " 

Swithin  then  left  the  morning-room  for  the  apartment 
designated,  and  amused  himself  in  that  "soul  of  the 
house,''  as  Cicero  defined  it,  till  he  heard  the  lunch-bell 
sounding  from  the  turret,  when  he  came  down  from  the 
library  steps,  and  thought  it  time  to  go  home.  But  at 
that  moment  a  servant  entered  to  inquire  whether  he  would 
prefer  to  have  his  lunch  brought  in  to  him  there,  and  upon 
his  replying  in  the  affirmative  a  large  tray  arrived  on  the 
stomach  of  a  footman,  and  Swithin  was  greatly  surprised 
to  see  a  whole  pheasant  placed  at  his  disposal. 

Having  breakfasted  at  eight  that  morning,  and  having 
been  much  in  the  open  air  afterwards,  the  Adonis  astron- 
omer's appetite  assumed  grand  proportions.  How  much 
of  that  pheasant  he  might  consistently  eat  without  hurting 
his  dear  patroness  Lady  Constantine's  feelings,  when  he 
could  readily  eat  it  all,  was  a  problem  in  which  the  reason- 
ableness of  a  larger  and  larger  quantity  argued  itself  in- 
versely as  a  smaller  and  smaller  quantity  remained.  When, 
at  length,  he  had  finally  decided  on  a  terminal  point  in 
the  body  of  the  bird,  the  door  was  gently  opened. 

"Oh,  you  have  not  finished.?"  came  to  him  over  his 
shoulder,  in  a  considerate  voice. 

"Oh,  yes,  thank  you,  Lady  Constantine,"  he  said,  jump- 
ing up. 

"Why  did  you  prefer  to  lunch  in  this  awkward,  dusty 
place .? "" 

"I  thought — it  would  be  better,"  said  Swithin  simply. 

"There  is  fruit  in  the  other  room,  if  you  like  '.«   come 
But  perhaps  you  would  rather  not .'  " 


TIVO    av  A     TOWER.  67 

"Oh,  yes,  I  should  much  Hke  to,"  said  Swithin,  walk- 
ing over  his  napkin,  and  following  her  as  she  led  the  way 
to  the  adjoining  apartment. 

Here,  while  she  asked  him  what  he  had  been  reading, 
he  modestly  ventured  on  an  apple,  in  whose  flavor  he 
recognized  the  familiar  taste  of  old  friends  robbed  from  her 
husband's  orchards  in  his  childhotKl.  long  before  Lady 
Constantine's  advent  on  the  scene.  She  supposed  he  had 
confined  his  search  to  his  own  sublime  subject,  astronomy.' 

Swithin  suddenly  became  older  to  the  eye,  as  his  thoughts 
reverted  to  the  topic  thus  reintroduced.  "Yes,"  he  in- 
formed her.  "I  seldom  read  any  other  subject.  In  these 
days  the  secret  of  productive  study  is  to  avoid  well." 

*'  Did  you  find  any  good  treatises.-'  " 

"None.  The  theories  in  your  books  are  almost  as 
obsolete  as  the  Ptolemaic  system.  Only  fancy,  that  niag- 
nificent  Cyclopsedia,  leather  bound,  and  stamped,  and  gilt, 
and  wide-margined,  and  bearing  the  blazon  of  your  house 
in  magnificent  colors,  says  that  the  twinkling  of  the  stars 
is  probably  caused  by  heavenly  bodies  passing  in  front  of 
them  in  their  revolutions." 

"And  is  it  not  so.'  That  was  what  I  learned  when  I 
was  a  girl." 

The  modern  Eudo.xus  now  rose  above  the  embarrassing 
horizon  of  Lady  Constantine's  great  house,  magnificent 
furniture,  and  awe-inspiring  footmen.  He  became  quite 
natural,  all  his  self  consciousness  fled,  and  his  eye  spoke 
into  hers  no  less  than  his  lips  to  her  cars,  as  he  said,  "  How 
such  a  theory  can  have  lingered  on  to  this  day  beats  con- 
jecture !  Francois  Arago,  as  long  as  filty  <.;f  sixty  years 
ago,   conclusively  established  the  fact  thai  .■.<■.. ,'^iliatiou  is 


68  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

the  simplest  thing  in  the  world, — merely  a  matter  of  at- 
mosphere. But  I  won't  speak  of  this  to  you  now.  The 
comparative  absence  of  scintillation  in  warm  countries  was 
noticed  by  Humboldt.  Then,  again,  the  scintillations 
vary.  No  star  flaps  his  wings  like  Sirius  when  he  lies 
low  !  He  flashes  out  emeralds  and  rubies,  amethystine 
flames  and  sapphirine  colors,  in  a  manner  quite  marvel- 
ous to  behold.  And  this  is  only  one  star  !  So,  too,  do 
Arcturus,  and  Capella,  and  lesser  luminaries.  .  .  .  But 
I  tire  you  with  this  subject.-*" 

"On  the  contrary,  you  speak  so  beautifully  that  I  could 
listen  all  day." 

The  astronomer  threw  a  searching  glance  upon  her  for 
a  moment;  but  there  was  no  satire  in  the  warm,  soft  eyes 
which  met  his  own  with  a  luxurious  contemplative  in- 
terest. 

"Say  some  more  o{  it  to  me,"  she  continued,  in  a 
voice  not  (lir  removed  from  coaxing. 

After  some  hesitation  the  subject  returned  again  to 
his  lips,  and  he  said  some  more — indeed,  much  more: 
Lady  Constantine  often  throwing  in  an  appreciative  re- 
mark or  question,  often^r  meditatively  regarding  him, 
in  pursuance  of  ideas  not  exactly  based  on  his  words, 
and  letting  him  go  on  as  he  would. 

Before  he  left  the  house  the  new  astronomical  project 
was  .set  in  train.  The  top  o  the  column  was  to  l)e 
roofed  in,  to  form  a  proper  observatory;  and  on  the 
ground  that  he  knew  better  than  any  one  else  how  this 
was  to  be  carried  out,  she  requested  him  to  give  precise 
directions  on  the  point,  and  to  superintend  the  whole. 
A  woodei^  cabin  was  to  be  erected  at  the  foot  of  the 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  69 

tower,  to  provide  better  accommodation  for  casual  vis- 
itors to  the  observator}'  than  the  spiral  staircase  and  lead- 
ilat  afforded.  As  this  cabin  would  be  completely  buried 
in  the  dense  pine  foliage  which  enveloped  the  lower  part 
of  the  column  and  its  pedestal,  it  would  be  no  disfigure- 
ment to  the  general  appearance.  Finally,  a  path  was  to 
bj  made  across  ihe  surrounding  fallow,  by  which  she 
might  easily  approach  the  scene  of  her  new  study. 

When  he  was  gone  she  wrote  to  the  firm  of  opticians 
concerning  the  equatorial  for  whose  reception  all  this  was 
designed. 

The  undertaking  was  soon  in  full  progress;  and  by 
degrees  it  became  the  talk  of  the  hamlets  round  that  Lady 
Constantine  had  given  up  melancholy  for  astronomy,  to 
the  great  advantage  of  all  who  came  in  contact  with  her. 
One  morning,  when  Tabitha  Lark  had  come  as  usual  to 
read,  Lady  Constantine  chanced  to  be  in  a  quarter  of  the 
house  to  which  she  seldom  wandered;  and  while  here  she 
heard  her  maid  talking  confidentially  to  labitha  in  the 
adjoining  room  on  the  curious  and  sudden  interest  which 
Lady  Constantine  had  acquired  in  the  moon  and  stars. 

"They  ilo  say  all  sorts  of  trumpery,"  observed  the 
hand-maid.  "They  say — though  "tis  little  better  than 
mischief,  to  be  sure — that  it  isn't  the  moon,  and  it  isn"t 
the  stars,  and  it  isn't  the  plannards,  that  my  lady  cares 
for,  but  for  the  pretty  lad  who  draws  'em  down  I'rom  the 
sky  to  please  her;  and  being  a  married  example,  and  what 
with  sin  and  shame  knocking  at  every  poor  maid's  door 
afore  you  can  say,  'Hands  off,  my  dear,'  to  the  civilest 
young  man,  she  ought  to  set  a  better  pattern." 

Lady  Constantine's  face  flamed  up  vividly. 


;o  TIFO    ON  A    TOWER. 

' '  If  Sir  Blount  were  to  come  back  all  of  a  sudden— 
oh,  my ! " 

Lady  Constantino  grew  cold  as  ice. 
'There's  nothing  in  it,"  said  Tabitha  scornfully.      "I 
could  prove  it  any  day. " 

"Well,  I  wish  I  had  half  her  chance!"  sighed  the 
lady's-maid.     And  no  more  was  said  on  the  subject  then. 

Tabitha's  remark  showed  that  the  suspicion  was  quite 
an  embr}'0  as  yet.  Nevertheless,  saying  nothing  to  re- 
veal what  she  had  overheard,  immediately  after  the  read- 
ing Lady  Constantine  flew  like  a  bird  to  where  she  knew 
that  Swithin  might  be  found.  He  was  in  the  plantation, 
sticking  up  little  sticks  to  mark  where  the  wooden  cabin 
was  to  stand.  She  called  him  to  a  remote  place  under 
the  funereal  trees.  "  I  have  altered  my  mind,"  she  said. 
"1  can  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  matter." 

"Indeed.'"  said  Swithin,  surprised. 

"Astronomy  is  not  my  hobby  any  longer.  And  you 
are  not  my  Astronomer-Royal." 

"Oh,  Lady  Constantine!"  cried  the  youth,  aghast. 
"Why;  the  work  is  begun.  I  thought  the  equatorial 
was  ordered. " 

She  dropped  her  voice,  though  there  was  nobody  to 
hear  even  a  Jericho  shout.  "Of  course  astronomy  is  my 
hobby  privately,  and  you  are  to  be  my  Astronomer-Royal, 
and  I  still  furnish  the  observatory;  but  not  to  the  outer 
world.  There  is  a  reason  against  mv  indulgence  in  such 
scientific  fancies  openly;  and  the  project  must  be  arranged 
in  this  wise.  The  whole  enterprise  is  yours;  you  rent  the 
tower  of  me:  you  build  the  cabin:  you  get  the  equatorial. 
I  simply  give  pxirmission^  since  you  desire  it.     The  path 


TIVO    ON-  A    TOWER.  7 1 

that  was  to  be  made  from  the  hill  to  the  park  is  not  to 
be  thought  of.  There  is  to  be  no  communication  be- 
tween the  house  and  the  column.  The  equatorial  will 
arrive  addressed  to  you,  and  its  cost  I  will  j)ay  through 
you.      ]My  name  must  not  appear,  and   I  vanish  entirely 

from   the  undertaking This  blind  is  necessary," 

she  added,  sii^rhing.      "Good-bve. " 

"But  you  do  take  as  much  interest  as  before,  and  it 
will  be  yours  just  the  same }  "  he  said,  walking  after  her. 
He  scarcely  comprehended  the  subterfuge,  and  was  ab- 
solutely blind  as  to  its  reason. 

"Can  you  doubt  it.'     But  I  dare  not  do  it  openly.'' 

With  this  she  went  awav;  and  in  due  time  there  circu- 
lated  through  the  parish  an  assertion  that  it  was  a  mistake 
to  suppose  Lady  Constantine  had  anything  to  do  with 
Swithin  St.  Cleeve  or  his  star-gazing  schemes.  She  had 
merely  allowed  him  to  rent  the  tower  of  her  for  use  as 
his  observator)',  and  to  put  some  temporary  fixtures  on 
it  for  that  purpose. 

After  this  Lady  Constantine  lapsed  into  her  former  Hfe 
of  loneliness;  and  by  these  prompt  measures  the  ghost  of 
a  rumor  which  had  barely  started  into  existence  was 
speedily  laid  to  rest.  It  had  probably  originated  in  her 
own  house,  and  had  gone  but  little  further.  Yet,  despite 
her  self-control,  a  certain  north  window  of  the  Great 
House,  that  commanded  an  uninterrupted  view  of  the 
upper  ten  feet  of  the  column,  revealed  her  as  somewhat 
frequently  gazing  from  it  at  a  rotundity  which  had  begun 
to  appear  on  the  summit.  To  those  with  whom  she 
came  in  contact  she  sometimes  addressed  such  remarks 
as,    "Is  young  Mr..  St    Cleeve  getting  on  witl\  his  ob- 


72  TJVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

servatory?  I  hope  he  will  fix  his  instruments  without 
damaging  the  column,  which  is  so  interesting  to  us  as 
being  in  memor}-  of  my  dear  husband's  great-granrifather 
— a  truly  brave  man. " 

On  one  occasion  her  building-steward  ventured  to  sug- 
gest to  her  that,  Sir  Blount  having  deputed  to  her  the 
power  to  grant  short  leases  in  his  absence,  she  should 
have  a  distinctive  agreement  with  Swithin,  as  between 
landlord  and  tenant,  with  a  stringent  clause  against  his 
driving  nails  into  the  stone-work  of  such  an  historical  me- 
morial. She  replied  that  she  did  not  wish  to  be  severe 
on  the  last  representative  of  such  old  and  respected  parish- 
ioners as  his  mother's  family  had  been,  and  of  such  a  well- 
descended  family  as  his  father's;  so  that  it  would  only  be 
necessary  for  the  steward  to  keep  an  _eye  on  Mr.  St. 
Cleeve's  doings. 

Further,  when  a  letter  arrived  at  the  Great  House  from 
Hilton  and  Pimm's,  the  opticians,  with  information  that 
the  equatorial  was  ready  and  packed,  and  that  a  man 
would  be  sent  with  it  to  fix  it,  she  replied  to  that  firm 
to  the  effect  that  their  letter  should  have  been  addressed 
to  Mr.  St.  Cleeve,  the  local  astronomer,  on  whose  behalf 
she  had  made  the  inquiries;  that  she  had  nothing  more 
o  do  with  the  matter;  that  he  would  receive  the  instru- 
ment and  pay  the  bill, — her  guarantee  being  given  f('ir 
the  latter  performance. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

T  ADY  CONSTANTINE  then  had  tlie  pleasure  of 
■^-^  beholding  a  wagon,  laden  with  packing-cases,  in 
llie  act  of  crossing  the  field  towards  the  pillar;  and  not 
miny  days  later  Swithin,  who  had  never  come  to  the 
Great  House  since  the  luncheon,  met  her  in  a  path 
which  he  knew  to  be  one  of  her  promenades. 

"The  equatorial  is  fixed,  and  the  man  gone,"  he  saitl, 
half  in  doubt  as  to  his  speech,  for  her  commands  to  him 
not  to  recognize  her  agency  or  patronage  still  puzzled 
him.  "I  respectfully  wish — you  could  come  and  see 
it.  Lady  Constantine. " 

"  I  wouUi  rather  not;  I  cannot." 

"Saturn   is   lovely;   Jupiter   is   simply  sublime;    1   can 
see  double  stars  in   the   Lion  and  in  the  Virgin  where 
I    had   seen   only   a  single    one    before.      It   is  all    I    re 
quired  to  set  me  going  !  " 

"Is  it  so?  ril  come.  But — you  need  say  nothing 
about  my  visit.  I  cannot  come  to-night,  but  I  will 
some  time  this  week.  Vet  only  this  once,  to  try  the 
instrument.  Afterwards  you  must  be  content  to  pursue 
your  studiqs  alone." 


74 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 


Swithin  seemed  but  little  affected  at  this  announce- 
ment. "Hilton  and  Pimm's  man  handed  me  the  bill,'' 
he  continued. 

"  How  much  is  it.'  " 

He  told  her.  "And  the  man  who  has  built  the  hut 
and  dome,  and  done  the  other  fixing,  has  sent  in  his." 
He  named  this  amount  also. 

"Very  well.  They  shall  be  settled  with.  My  debts 
must  be  paid  with  my  money,  which  you  shall  have  at 
once, — in  cash,  since  a  check  would  hardly  do.  Come 
to  the  house  for  it  this  evening.  But  no,  no  ! — you 
must  not  com.e  openly;  such  is  the  world.  Come  to 
the  window — the  window  that  is  e.xactly  in  a  line  with 
the  long  snow-drop  bed,  in  the  south  front — at  eight 
to-night,   and  1  will  give  you  what  is  necessary." 

"Certainly,  Lady  Constantine, "  said  the  young  man 
respectfully. 

At  eight  that  evening,  accordingly,  Swithin  entered  like 
a  ghost  upon  the  terrace  to  seek  out  the  spot  she  had 
designated.  The  equatorial  had  so  entirely  absorbed  his 
thoughts  that  he  did  not  trouble  himself  seriously  to 
conjecture  the  why  and  wherefore  of  her  secrecy.  If 
he  casually  thought  of  it,  he  set  it  down  in  a  general 
way  to  an  intensely  generous  wish  on  her  part  not  to 
lessen  his  influence  among  the  sparse  inhabitants  by 
making  him  appear  the  object  of  patronage. 

While  he  stood  by  the  long  snow-drop  bed,  which 
looked  up  at  him  like  a  nether  ISIilky  Way,  the  French 
casement  of  the  window  opposite  softly  opened,  and  a 
hand  bordered  by  a  glimmer  of  lace  was  stretched  forth, 
from  which  he  received  a  crisp  little  parcel, — bank-notes, 


TPVO    ON  A    TOWER.  1% 

apparently.  He  knew  the  hand,  and  held  it  long  enough 
to  press  it  to  his  lips,  the  only  form  which  had  ever  oc- 
curred to  him  of  expressing  his  gratitude  to  her  without 
the  incumbrance  of  clumsy  words, — a  vehicle  at  the  best 
of  times  but  rudely  suited  for  such  delicate  merchandise. 
The  hand  was  hastily  withdrawn,  as  if  the  treatment  had 
been  unexpected.  Then  seemingly  moved  by  second 
thoughts,  she  bent  forward  and  said,  "Is  the  night  good 
for  observations } " 

"Perfect." 

"Then  I'll  come  to-night;  it  makes  no  difference  to 
me,   after  all.     Wait  just  one  moment." 

He  wailed,  and  she  presently  emerged,  muffled  up 
like  a  nun;  whereupon  they  left  the  terrace  and  struck 
across  the  park  together.  Very  little  was  said  by  either 
till  they  were  crossing  the  fallow,  when  he  asked  if  his 
arm  would  help  her.  She  did  not  take  the  offered  sup- 
port just  then;  but  when  they  were  ascending  under 
the  heavy  gloom  of  the  fir-trees  she  seized  it,  as  if  rather 
influenced  by  the  oppressive  solitude  than  by  fatigue. 

Thus  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  column,  ten  thou- 
sand spirits  in  prison  seeming  to  gasp  their  griefs  from 
the  funereal  boughs  overhead,  and  a  few  twigs  scratch- 
ing the  pillar  with  the  drag  of  impish  claws  as  tenacious 
as  those  figuring  in  St.    Anthony's  temptation. 

"  How  intensely  dark  it  is  just  here  !  "  she  whispered. 
"I  wonder  you  can  keep  in  the  path.  Many  ancient 
Britons  lie  buried  here,   doubtless." 

He  led  her  round  to  the  other  side,  where,  feeling  his 
way  with  his  hands,  he  suddenly  left  her,  appearing  a 
moment  after  with  a  light. 


76  TIVO    ON  A    TOWEk. 

"What  place  is  this?"  she  exclaimed. 

"This  is  the  cabin,"  said  he;  and  she  could  jusl 
discern  the  outline  of  a  little  house,  not  unlike  a  bath- 
ing-machine without  wheels.  "I  have  kept  lights  ready 
here,  as  I  thought  you  might  come  any  evening,  and 
possibly  bring  company." 

"Don't  quarrel  with  me  for  coming  alone!"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  sensitive  promptness.  "There  are  rea- 
sons for  what  I  do  of  which  you  know  nothing," 

"Perhaps  it  is  much  to  my  discredit  that  I  don't 
know. " 

"  Not  at  all.  Vou  are  all  the  better  for  it.  God  for- 
bid that  I  should  enlighten  you.  Well,  I  see  this  is  the 
hut.  But  I  am  more  curious  to  go  to  the  top,  and 
make  discoveries." 

He  brought  a  little  lantern  from  the  cabin,  and  lighted 
her  up  the  winding  staircase  to  the  temple  of  that  sub- 
lime mvstery  on  whose  threshold  he  stood  as  priest. 
The  top  of  the  column  was  quite  changed.  The  tub- 
shaped  space  within  the  parapet,  formerly  open  to  the 
air  and  sun,  was  now  arched  over  by  a  light  dome  of 
lath-work  covered  with  felt.  But  this  dome  was  not 
fixed.  At  the  line  where  its  base  descended  to  the  par- 
apet there  were  half  a  dozen  iron  balls,  precisely  like 
cannon-shot,  standing  loosely  in  a  groove,  and  on  these 
the  dome  rested  its  whole  weight.  In  the  side  of  the 
dome  was  a  slit,  through  which  the  wind  blew  and  the 
North  Star  beamed,  and  towards  it  the  end  of  the  great 
telescope  was  directed.  This  latter  magnificent  object, 
with  its  circles,  axes,  and  handles  complete,  was  securely 
fixed  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  77 

"But  yuu  can  only  see  one  pan  of  llie  sky  througli 
that  slit,"  sa;tl  she. 

The  astronomer  stretched  out  his  arm,  and  the  whole 
dome  tminl  horizontally  round,  running  on  the  balls 
with  a  rumble  like  that  of  near  thunder.  Instead  of 
the  star  Polaris,  which  had  been  peeping  in  upon  them 
through  the  slit,  there  now  appeared  the  faces  of  Castor 
and  Pollux.  Swithin  then  manipulated  the  equatorial, 
and  put  it  through  its  capabilities  in  like  manner. 

She  was  enchanted;  being  rather  excitable,  she  even 
clapped  her  hands  just  once.  She  turned  to  him:  "Now 
are  you  happy  ^  " 

"But  it  is  ^W  yours,    Lady  Constantine." 

"At  this  moment.  But  that's  a  defect  which  can 
soon  be  remedied.      When  is  }our  birthday  ?  " 

"Next  month, — the  seventh." 

"Then  it  shall  all  be  yours, — a  birthday  present." 

The  young  man  protested;  it  was  too  much. 

"No,  you  must  accept  it  all, — equatorial,  dome,  stand, 
hut,  and  everything  that  has  been  put  here  for  this  as- 
tronomical purpose.  The  possession  of  these  apparatus 
would  only  compromise  me.  Already  they  are  reputed 
to  be  yours,  and  they  must  be  made  yours.  There  is 
no  help  for  it.  If  ever "  (here  her  voice  lost  some 
firmness), — "if  ever  you  go  away  from  me, — from  this 
place,  I  mean, — and  marry,  and  settle  in  a  new  home 
elsewhere  for  good,  you  must  take  these  things,  equa- 
torial and  all,  and  never  tell  how  they  came  to  be  yours." 

"I  wish  1  could  do  something  more  for  you!"  ex- 
claimed the  much-moved  astronomer.  "If  you  could 
but  share  my  fame, — supposing  I  get  any,  which  I  may 


fg  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

die  before  doing, — it  would  be  a  litde  compensation. 
As  to  m\-  going  away  and  marrying,  I  certainly  shall 
not.      I  may  go  away,   but  I  shall  never  marry." 

"Why  not.?" 
.    "A  beloved  science  is  enough  wife  for  me, — combined, 
perhaps,   with  a  litde  warm  friendship  with  one  of  kin- 
dred pursuits." 

"  Who  is  the  friend  .?  " 

"Yourself  I  should  like  it  to  be." 

' '  You  would  have  to  become  a  woman  before  I  could 
be  that,  publicly;  or  I  a  man,"  she  replied,  with  dry  mel- 
ancholy. 

' '  Why  a  woman,  dear  Lady  Constantine  }  " 

"I  cannot  explain.  No;  you  must  keep  your  fame  and 
your  science  all  to  yourself,  and  I  must  keep  my — troubles." 

Swithin,  to  divert  her  from  melancholy, — not  knowing 
that  in  the  expression  of  her  melancholy  thus  and  now  she 
found  much  pleasure, — changed  the  subject  by  asking  if 
they  should  take  some  observations. 

"Yes;  the  scenery  is  well  hung  to-night,"  she  said, 
looking  out  upon  the  heavens. 

Then  they  proceeded  to  scan  the  sky,  roving  from  planet 
to  star,  from  single  stars  to  double  stars,  from  double  to 
colored  stars,  in  the  cursory  manner  of  the  merely  curious. 
They  plunged  down  to  that  at  other  times  invisible  stel- 
lar multitude  in  the  back  rows  of  the  celestial  theater;  re- 
mote layers  of  constellations  whose  shapes  were  new  and 
singular;  pretty  twinklers  which  for  infinite  ages  had  spent 
their  beams  without  calling  forth  from  a  single  poet  a 
single  line,  or  being  able  to  bestow  a  ray  of  comfort  on  a 
single  benighted  traveler. 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  79 

"And  to  think,"  said  Lady.  Constantine,  "that  the 
whole  race  of  shepherds,  since  the  beginning  of  the  world, 
— even  those  immortal  shepherds  who  watched  near  Beth- 
lehem, —should  have  gone  into  their  graves  without  know- 
ing that  for  one  star  that  lighted  them  in  their  labors  there 
were  ten  as  good  behind  trying  to  do  so  !  .  .  .  I  have  a 
feeling  for  this  instrument  not  unlike  the  awe  I  should 
feel  in  the  presence  of  a  great  magician  in  whom  I  really 
believed.  Its  powers  are  so  enormous,  and  weird,  and 
fantastical,  that  I  should  have  a  personal  fear  in  being 
with  it  alone.  INIusic  drew  an  angel  down,  said  the  poet; 
but  what  is  that  to  drawing  down  worlds ! " 

' '  I  often  experience  a  kind  of  fear  of  the  sky  after  sit- 
ting in  the  observing-chair  a  long  time.  And  when  I  walk 
home  afterwards  I  fear  it,  for  what  I  know  is  there,  but 
cannot  see,  as  one  naturally  fears  the  presence  of  a  vast 
something  that  only  reveals  a  very  little  of  itself  That's 
partly  what  I  meant  -by  saying  that  magnitude,  which  up 
to  a  certain  point  has  grandeur,  has  beyond  it  ghasdiness." 

Thus  the  interest  of  their  sidereal  observations  led  them 
on,  till  the  knowledge  that  scarce  any  other  human  vision 
was  traveling  within  a  hundred  million  miles  of  their  own 
•  gave  them  such  a  sense  of  the  isolation  of  that  faculty  as 
almost  to  be  a  sense  of  isolation  as  regarded  their  whole 
personality,  causing  a  shudder  at  its  absoluteness.  At 
nisfht,  when  human  discords  and  harmonies  are  hushed,  in 
a  general  sense,  for  the  greater  part  of  twelve  hours,  there 
is  nothing  to  moderate  the  blow  with  which  the  infinitely 
great,  the  stellar  universe,  strikes  down  upon  the  infinitely 
little,  the  mind  of  the  beholder;  and  this  was  the  case 
now.      Having  got  closer  to  immensity  than  their  fellow- 


So  TWO    OJV  A    TOWER. 

creatures,  they  saw  at  once  its  beauty  and  its  frightfulness. 
They  more  and  more  felt  the  contrast  between  their  own 
tiny  magnitudes  and  those  among  which  they  had  reck- 
lessly plunged,  till  they  were  oppressed  with  the  presence 
of  a  vastness  they  could  not  cope  with  even  as  an  idea, 
which  hung  about  them  like  a  nightmare. 

He  stood  bv  her  while  she  observed;  she  bv  him  when 
they  changed  places.  Once  that  Swithin's  emancipation 
from  a  trammeling  body  had  been  effected  by  the  tele- 
scope, and  he  was  well  away  in  space,  she  felt  her  influ- 
ence over  him  diminishing  to  nothing.  He  was  quite 
unconscious  of  his  terrestrial  neighborings,  and  of  herself 
as  one  of  them.  It  still  further  reduced  her  towards 
simplicity. 

The  silence  was  broken  only  by  the  ticking  of  the  clock- 
work which  gave  diurnal  motion  to  the  instrument.  To 
expect  that  he  was  ever  voluntarily  going  to  end  the  pause 
by  speech  was  apparently  futile.  She  laid  her  hand  upon 
his  arm.  He  started,  withdrew  his  eye  from  the  telescope, 
and  brought  himself  back  to  the  earth  by  a  visible  effort. 

"Do  come  out  of  it !  "  she  coaxed,  with  a  softness  in 
her  voice  which  anv  man  but  Swithin  would  have  felt  to 
be  exquisite.  "I  feel  that  I  have  been  so  foolish  as  to 
put  in  your  hands  an  instrument  to  effect  my  own  anni- 
hilation. Not  a  word  have  you  spoken  for  the  last  ten 
minutes." 

"I  have  been  mentally  getting  on  with  my  great  the- 
ory.  I  hope  soon  to  be  able  to  publish  it  to  the  world. 
What,  are  you  going.?  I  will  walk  with  you,  Lady  Con- 
stantine.      When  will  you  come  again  't '' 

"When  your  great  theory  is  published  to  the  world," 


CHAPTER    IX. 

T  ADY  CONSTANTINE,  if  narrowly  observed  at  this 
^~-^  time,  would  have  seemed  to  be  deeply  troubled  in 
conscience,  and  particularly  after  the  interview  above  de- 
scribed. Ash-Wednesday  occurred  in  the  calendar  a  few 
days  later,  and  she  went  to  morning  service  with  a  look 
of  genuine  contrition  on  her  emotional  and  yearning  coun- 
tenance. Besides  herself  the  congregation  consisted  only 
of  the  parson,  clerk,  school-children,  and  three  old  people 
living  on  alms,  who  sat  under  the  reading-desk;  and  thus, 
when  Mr.  To;kingham  blazed  forth  the  denunciatory  sen- 
tences of  the  Commination,  the  whole  force  of  them  seemed 
to  descend  upon  her  own  shoulders.  Looking  across  the 
empty  pews,  she  saw  through  the  one  or  two  clear  panes 
of  the  window  opposite  a  figure  in  the  churchyard,  and 
the  very  feeling  against  which  she  had  tried  to  pray  came 
back  again.  When  she  came  out  and  had  crossed  into 
the  private  walk,  Swithin  came  forward  to  speak  to  her. 
This  was  a  most  unusual  circumstance,  and  argued  a  mat- 
ter of  importance. 

"  1  have  made  an  amazing  discovery  in  connection  with 
the  variab'e  stars!"  he  exclaimed.      "It  will  excite  the 


82  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

whole  astronomical  world,  and  the  world  outside  but  little 
less.  I  had  long  suspected  the  true  secret  of  their  varia- 
bility; but  it  was  by  the  merest  chance  on  earth  that  1  hit 
upon  a  proof  of  my  guess.  Your  equatorial  has  done  it, 
my  good,  kind  Lady  Constantine,  and  our  fame  is  estab- 
lished forever  ! "  He  sprang  into  the  air,  and  waved  his 
hat  in  his  triumph. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad — so  rejoiced  !  "  she  cried.  "What 
is  it.^  But  don't  stop  to  tell  me.  Publish  it  at  once  in 
some  paper;  nail  your  name  to  it,  or  somebody  will  seize 
the  idea  and  appropriate  it, — forestall  you  in  some  way. 
It  will  be  Adams  and  Leverrier  over  again." 

"If  I  may  walk  with  you  I  will  explain  the  nature  of 
the  discovery.  It  accounts  for  the  occasional  green  tint 
of  Castor  and  every  difficulty.  I  said  I  would  be  the  Co- 
pernicus of  the  stellar  system,  and  I  have  begun  to  be. 
Yet  who  knows }  " 

' '  Now  don't  be  so  up  and  down  !  I  shall  not  understand 
your  explanation,  and  I  would  rather  not  know  it.  I  shall 
reveal  it  if  it  is  very  grand.  Women,  you  know,  are  not 
safe  depositaries  of  such  valuable  secrets.  You  may  walk 
with  me  a  little  way,  with  great  pleasure.  Then  go  and 
write  your  account,  so  as  to  insure  your  ownership  of  the 
discovery.  .  .  .  But  how  you  have  watched  ! '  she  cried, 
in  a  sudden  accession  of  anxiety,  as  she  turned  to  look 
more  closely  at  him.  "The  orbits  of  your  eyes  are  lead- 
en, and  your  eyelids  are  red  and  heavy.  Don't  do  it, — 
pray  don't !     You  will  be  ill,  and  break  down." 

"I  have,  it  is  true,  been  up  a  little  late  this  last  week," 
he  said  cheerfully.  "  In  fact,  I  couldn't  tear  myself  away 
from  the  equatorial;  it  is  such  a  wonderful  possession  that 


TIVO    O.Y  A    TOWER.  83 

it  keeps  me  there  till  da\light.      But  what  does  that  mat- 
ter, now  I  have  made  the  discovery  ? " 

"Ah,  it  does  matter!  Now,  promise  me — I  insist — 
that  vou  will  not  commit  such  imprudences  again;  for 
what  shouUl  I  do  if  my  Astronomer-Royal  were  to  die  ? '' 
She  laughed,  but  far  too  apprehensively  to  be  effective  as  a 
display  of  levity. 

They  parted,  and  he  went  home  to  write  out  his  paper. 
He  promised  to  call  as  soon  as  his  discovery  was  in  print. 
Then  they  waited  for  the  result. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  tremulous  state  of  Lady 
Constantine  during  the  interval.  The  warm  interest  she 
took  in  Swithin  St.  Cleeve — many  would  have  said  dan- 
gerously warm  interest — made  his  hopes  her  hopes;  and 
though  she  sometimes  admitted  to  herself  that  great  allow- 
ance WAS  requisite  for  the  ovei  weening  confidence  of  youth 
in  the  future,  she  permitted  herself  to  be  blinded  to  prob- 
abilit  es  f  )r  the  pleasure  of  sharing  his  dreams.  It  seemed 
not  unreasonable  to  suppose  the  present  hour  to  be  the 
beginning  of  realization  to  her  darling  wish  that  this  young 
mm  sliould  become  famous.  He  had  worked  hard,  and 
why  should  he  not  be  famous  early.?  His  very  simplicity 
in  mundane  affairs  afforded  a  strong  presumption  that  in 
things  celestial  he  might  be  wise.  To  obtain  support  for 
this  hypothesis  she  had  only  to  think  over  the  lives  of  many 
eminent  astronomers. 

She  waited  feverishly  for  the  flourish  of  trumpets  from 
afar,  by  which  she  expected  the  announcement  of  his  dis- 
covery to  be  greeted.  Knowing  that  immediate  intelli- 
gence of  the  outburst  would  be  brought  to  her  by  himself, 
she  watched  from  the  windows  of  the  Great  House  each 


84  Tiro    ON  A     TOWER. 

morning  for  a  sight  of  his  figure  hastening  down  the  glade. 
But  he  did  not  come. 

A  long  arra}-  of  wet  days  passed  their  dreary  shapes  be- 
fore her,  and  made  the  waiting  still  more  tedious.  On  one 
of  these  occasions  she  ran  across  to  the  tower,  at  the  risk 
of  a  severe  cold.  The  door  was  locked.  Two  days  after 
she  went  again.  The  door  was  locked  still.  But  this 
was  only  to  be  expected  in  such  weather.  Yet  she  would 
have  gone  on  to  his  house,  had  there  not  been  one  reason 
too  many  against  such  precipitancy.  As  astronomer  and 
astronomer  there  was  no  harm  in  their  meetings;  but  as 
woman  and  man  she  feared  them, — for  herself,  at  any 
rate. 

Ten  days  passed  without  a  sight  of  him;  ten  blurred 
and  dreary  days,  during  which  the  whole  landscape  dripped 
like  a  mop  and  the  park  trees  swabbed  the  gravel  from  the 
drive,  while  the  sky  was  lined  with  a  thick  vault  of  immov- 
able cloud.  It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  science  of  astron- 
omy had  never  been  real,  and  that  the  heavenly  bodies, 
with  their  motions,  were  as  theoretical  as  the  moves  and 
pieces  at  a  bygone  game  of  chess. 

She  could  content  herself  no  longer  with  fruitless  visits 
to  the  column,  and  when  the  rain  had  a  litde  abated  she 
walked  to  the  nearest  hamlet,  and  in  a  conversation  with 
the  first  old  woman  she  met  contrived  to  lead  up  to  the 
subject  of  Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  by  talking  about  his  grand- 
mother. 

"Ah,  poor  old  heart;  'tis  a  bad  time  for  her,  my  lady.''' 
exclaimed  the  dame. 

"Why.?" 

"  Her  grandson  is  dying;  and  such  a  gentleman  born  ! "' 


TIVO    OX   .1     rOWER.  85 

"Oh,  it  has  sometliinq;  tu  do  with  that  dreadfal  dis- 
CO very ! " 

"Wliat,  my  lady?" 

She  left  the  old  woman  with  an  evasive  answer,  and 
uith  a  breaking  lieart  crept  along  the  road.  Tears 
l)rimmed  into  her  e\-es  as  she  walked,  and  b}'  the  time 
that  she  was  out  of  sight  sobs  burst  forth  tumultuously. 
'*I  am  too  fond  of  him,  but  1  can't  help  it,  and  I  don't 
care, — I  don't  care  !  " 

Without  further  considerations  as  to  who  beheld  her  do- 
ings, she  instinctively  went  straight  towards  Mrs.  Martin's. 
Seeing  a  man  coming,  she  calmed  herself  sufficiently  to 
ask  him  through  her  dropped  veil  how  poor  Mr.  St.  Cleeve 
was  that  day.  But  she  only  got  the  same  reply:  "They 
say  he  is  d}-ing,  my  lady. " 

When  Swithin  had  parted  from  Lady  Constantine,  on 
the  previous  Ash-Wednesday,  he  had  gone  straight  to  the 
homestead  and  prepared  his  account  of  A  New  Astronom- 
ical Discovery.  It  was  written  in  perhaps  too  glowing  a 
rhetoric  for  the  true  scientific  tone  of  mind;  but  there  was 
no  doubt  that  his  assertion  met  with  a  most  startling  apt- 
ness all  the  difficulties  which  had  accompanied  the  received 
theories  on  the  phenomena  attending  those  marvelous  suns 
of  maiTclous  systems  so  far  away.  It  accounted  for  the 
nebulous  mist  that  surrounds  some  of  them  at  their  weak- 
est time;  in  short,  took  up  a  position  of  probability  which 
has  never  yet  been  assailed. 

The  papers  were  written  in  triplicate,  and  carefully 
sealed  up  with  blue  wax.  One  copy  was  directed  to 
Greenwich,   another  to  the  Royal  Society,   another  to  a 


86  •       TWO    ON   A     TOWER. 

prominent  astronomer.  A  brief  statement  of  the  essence 
of  the  discovery  was  also  prepared  for  the  leading  daily 
paper. 

He  considered  these  documents,  embodying  as  they  did 
two  years  of  his  constant  thought,  reading,  and  observa- 
tion, too  important  to  be  intrusted  for  posting  to  the  hands 
of  a  messenger;  too  important  to  be  sent  to  the  sub-post- 
office  at  hand.  Though  the  day  was  wet,  dripping  wet, 
he  went  on  foot  with  them  to  a  chief  office,  five  miles  off, 
and  registered  them.  Quite  exhausted  by  the  walk,  after 
his  long  night-work,  wet  through,  yet  sustained  by  the 
sense  of  a  great  achievement,  he  called  at  a  bookseller's  for 
the  astronomical  periodicals  to  which  he  subscribed;  then, 
resting  for  a  short  time  at  an  inn,  he  plodded  his  way 
homewards,  reading  his  papers  as  he  went,  and  planning 
how  to  enjoy  a  repose,  on  his  laurels,  of  a  week  or  more. 

On  he  strolled  through  the  rain,  holding  the  umbrella 
vertically  over  the  exposed  page  to  keep  it  dry  while  he 
read.  Suddenly  his  eye  was  struck  by  an  article.  It  was 
the  review  of  a  pamphlet  by  an  American  astronomer,  in 
which  the  author  announced  a  conclusive  discovery  with 
regard  to  variable  stars.  - 

The  discovery  was  precisely  the  discovery  of  Swithin  St. 
Cleeve.  Another  man  had  forestalled  his  fame  by  a  period 
of  about  six  weeks. 

Then  the  youth  found  that  the  goddess  Philosophy,  to 
whom  he  had  vowed  to  dedicate  his  whole  life,  would  not 
in  return  support  him  through  a  single  hour  of  despair. 
In  truth,  the  impishness  of  circumstance  was  newer  to 
him  than  it  would  have  been  to  a  philosopher  of  threescore 
and  ten.     In  a  wild  wish  for  annihilation  he  flung  himselt 


TWO    ON  A     TOWER.  87 

down  on  a  patch  of  heather  that  lay  a  Hltle  removed  from 
the  road,  and  in  this  watery  bed  remained  motionless, 
while  time  passed  by  unheeded.  At  last,  from  sheer  mis- 
ery and  weariness,  he  fell  asleep.  The  March  rain  pelted 
him  mercilessly,  the  beaded  moisture  from  the  heavily 
charged  locks  of  heath  penetrated  him  through  back  and 
sides,  and  clotted  his  hair  to  unsightly  tags  and  tufts. 
When  he  awoke  it  was  dark.  He  thought  of  his  grand- 
mother, and  of  her  possible  alarm  at  missing  him.  On  at- 
tempting to  rise,  he  found  that  he  could  hardly  bend  his 
joints,  and  that  his  clothes  were  as  heavy  as  lead  from  sat- 
uration. His  teeth  chattering  and  his  knees  trembling, 
he  pursued  his  way  home,  where  his  appearance  excited 
great  concern.  He  was  obliged  at  once  to  retire  to  bed, 
and  the  next  day  he  was  delirious  from  the  chill. 

It  w-as  about  ten  days  after  this  unhappy  occurrence 
that  Lady  Constantine  learnt  the  news,  as  above  described, 
and  hastened  along  to  the  homestead  in  that  state  of  an- 
guish in  which  the  heart  is  no  longer  under  the  control 
of  the  judgment,  and  self-abandonment,  even  to  error, 
verges  on  heroism.  On  reaching  the  house  in  Rings- 
Hill  Bottom,  the  door  was  opened  to  her  by  old  Han- 
nah, who  wore  an  assiduously  sorrowful  look;  and  Lady 
Constantine  was  shown  into  the  large  room, — so  wnde 
that  the  beams  bent  in  the  middle, — where  she  took 
her  seat  in  one  of  a  methodic  range  of  chairs,  beneath 
a  portrait  of  the  Reverend  ?iL-.  St.  Cleeve,  her  astrono- 
mer's erratic  father. 

The  eight  unwatered  plants,  in  the  row  of  eight  flower- 
pots, denoted  that  there  was  something  wrong  in  the 
house.     JMrs.  Martin  came  down-stairs,  fretting,  her  won- 


88  TJVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

der  at  beholding  Lady  Constantine  not  altogether  diS' 
placing  the  previous  mood.  "Here's  a  pretty  kettle  of 
fish,  my  lady  !  "'  she  exclaimed. 

Lady  Constantine  said,  "  Hush  !  "  and  pointed  inquir- 
ingly upward. 

"  He  is  not  overhead,  my  lady,"  replied  Swithin's  grand- 
mother.     "  His  bedroom  is  at  the  back  of  the  house." 

"  How  is  he  now }  " 

"  He  is  better,  just  at  this  moment;  and  we  are  more 
hopeful.      But  he  changes  so." 

"May  I  go  up.'     I  know  he  would  like  to  see  me." 

Her  presence  having  been  made  known  to  the  sufferer, 
she  was  conducted  upstairs  to  Swithin's  room.  The  way 
thither  was  through  the  large  chamber  he  had  used  as 
a  study  and  for  the  manufacture  of  optical  instruments. 
There  lay  the  large  pasteboard  telescope,  that  had  been 
just  such  a  failure  as  Crusoe's  large  boat;  there  were  his 
diagrams,  maps,  globes,  and  celestial  apparatus  of  va- 
rious sorts.  The  ab.sence  of  the  worker  through  illness 
or  death  is  sufficient  to  touch  the  prosiest  workshop  with 
the  hues  of  pathetic  romance,  and  it  was  with  a  swell- 
ing bosom  that  Lady  Constantine  passed  through  this 
arena  of  his  youthful  activities  to  the  little  chamber  where 
he  lay. 

Old  Mrs.  Martin  sat  down  by  the  window,  and  Lady 
Constantine  bent  over  Swithin. 

"Don't  speak  to  me!"  she  whispered.  "It  will 
weaken  you;  it  will  excite  you.  If  you  do  sj)eak  it  must 
be  very  softly."  She  took  his  hand,  nn  1  one  irrepressi- 
ble tear  fell  upon  it. 

"  Nothing  will  excite  me  now,  Lady  Constantine,  '  he 


TJVO    ON  A     TOWER.  89 

said;  "not  even  your  goodness  in  coming.  My  last  ex- 
citement was  when  I  lost  the  battle.  ...  Do  you  know 
that  my  discovery  has  been  forestalled.'  It  is  that  that's 
killing  me." 

"  But  you  are  going  to  recover;  you  are  better,  they  say. 
Is  it  so  'i  " 

"  I  think  I  am,  to-day.      But  who  can  be  sure?  " 

"The  poor  boy  was  so  upset  at  finding  that  his  labor 
had  been  thrown  away,"  said  his  grandmother,  "  that  he 
lay  down  in  the  rain,  and  chilled  his  life  out." 

"  How  could  you  do  it.-*  "  Lady  Constantine  whispered. 
"  How  coukl  you  think  so  much  of  renown,  and  so  lit- 
tle of  me  ?  ^^'h}■,  for  every  discovery  made  there  are  ten 
behind  that  await  making.  To  commit  suicide  like  this, 
as  if  there  were  nobody  in  the  world  to  care  for  }-ou  !  " 

"It  was  done  in  my  haste,  and  I  am  very,  very  sorry  for 
it  !  I  beg  both  you  and  all  my  few  friends  never,  never  to 
forgive  me  !  It  would  kill  me  with  self-reproach  if  you 
were  to  pardon  my  rashness  !  " 

At  this  moment  the  doctor  was  announced,  and  Mrs. 
Martin  went  downstairs  to  receive  him.  Lady  Constan- 
tine thought  she  would  remain  to  hear  his  report,  and  for 
this  purpose  came  out,  and  sat  down  in  a  nook  of  the 
adjoining  work-room  of  Swithin,  the  doctor  meeting  her 
as  he  passed  through  it  into  the  sick-chamber. 

He  was  there  during  what  seemed  a  torturingly  long 
time;  but  at  length  he  came  out  to  the  room  she  waited 
in,  and  crossed  it  on  his  way  downstairs.  She  rose  and 
followed  him  to  the  stair-head. 

"How  is  he.'"  she  anxiously  asked.  "Will  he  get 
over  it  ? " 


90  TM^O    ON  A    TOWER. 

The  doctor,  not  knowing  the  depth  of  her  interest  in 
the  patient,  spoke  with  the  l^lunt  candor  natural  towards 
a  comparatively  indifferent  inquirer.  "No,  Lady  Con- 
stantine,"  he  replied;  "there's  a  change  for  the  worse." 
And  he  retired  down  the  stairs. 

Scarcely  knowing  what  she  did.  Lady  Constantine  ran 
back  to  Swithin's  side,  flung  herself  upon  the  bed,  and  in 
a  throb  of  sorrow  kissed  him. 


CHAPTER   X. 

npHE  placid  inhabitants  of  the  parish  of  Welland,  in- 
■"■  eluding  warbling  wagoners,  lone  shepherds,  plow- 
men, the  blacksmith,  the  carpenter,  the  gardener  at  the 
Great  House,  the  steward  and  agent,  the  parson,  clerk, 
and  so  on,  were  hourly  expecting  the  announcement  of 
St.  Cleeve's  death.  The  sexton  had  been  going  to  see 
his  brother-in-law,  nine  miles  distant,  but  promptly  post- 
poned the  visit  for  a  few  days,  that  there  might  be  the 
regular  professional  hand  present  to  toll  the  bell  in  a  note 
of  due  fullness  and  solemnity;  an  attempt  by  a  deputy, 
on  a  previous  occasion  of  his  absence,  having  degenerated 
into  a  miserable  stammering  clang  that  was  a  disgrace  to 
the  parish.  But  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  did  not  decease,  a 
fact  of  which,  indeed,  the  habituated  reader  will  have 
been  well  aware  ever  since  the  rain  came  down  upon  the 
young  man  in  the  twenty-sixth  paragraph  of  the  ninth 
chapter,  and  led  to  his  alarming  illness.  Too  many 
maimed  histories  (such  as  his  would  have  read,  in  those 
circumstances)  are  hourly  enacting  themselves  in  this  dun- 
colored  world  to  justify  the  gratuitous  infliction  of  yet 
other  mournful  details  concerning  those 


92  TfVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"  Who  lay  great  bases  for  eternity 
Which  prove  more  short  than  waste  or  ruining." 

How  it  arose  that  he  did  not  die  was  in  this  wise;  and 
his  example  affords  another  instance  of  that  reflex  rule 
of  the  vassal  mind  over  the  sovereign  body,  which,  oper- 
ating so  wonderfully  in  elastic  natures,  and  more  or  less 
in  all,  originally  gave  rise  to  the  legend  that  the  suprem- 
acy lay  on  the  other  side. 

The  evening  of  the  day  after  the  tender,  despairing 
farewell  kiss  of  Lady  Constantine,  when  he  was  a  litde 
less  weak  than  during  her  visit,  he  lay  with  his  face  to 
the  window.  He  lay  alone,  quiet  and  resigned.  He 
had  been  thinking,  sometimes  of  her  and  other  friends, 
but  chiefly  of  his  lost  discovery.  Although  nearly  un- 
conscious at  the  time,  he  had  yet  been  aware  of  that  kiss, 
as  the  delicate  flush  which  followed  it  upon  his  cheek 
would  have  told;  but  he  had  attached  little  importance 
to  it  as  between  woman  and  man.  Had  he  been  dying 
of  love  instead  of  wet  weather,  perhaps  the  impulsive  act 
of  that  handsome  lady  would  have  been  seized  on  as 
proof  that  his  love  was  returned;  as  it  was,  her  kiss 
seemed  but  the  evidence  of  a  naturally  demonstrative 
kindliness,  felt  towards  him  chiefly  because  he  was  be- 
lieved to  be  leaving  her  forever. 

The  reds  of  sunset  passed,  as  dusk  drew  on.  Old 
Hannah  came  upstairs  to  pull  down  the  blinds,  and  as 
she  advanced  to  the  window  he  said  to  her,  in  a  faint 
voice,  "Well,  Hannah,  what  news  to-day .?  " 

"Oh,  nothing,  sir,"  Hannah  replied,  looking  out  of 
the  window  with  sad  apathy,  "only  that  ihere's  a  comet, 
they  say. " 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  93 

"A  what?"  said  the  dying  astronomer,  starting  up  on 
his  elbow. 

"A  comet, — that's  all,  Master  Swithin,"  repeated  Han- 
nah, in  a  lower  voice,  fearing  she  had  done  harm  in  some 
way. 

"Well,  tell  me,  tell  me!"  cried  Swithin.  "Is  it 
Gambart's.'  Is  it  Charles  the  Fifth's,  or  Halley's,  or 
Faye's,   or  whose }  " 

"Hush!"  said  she,  thinking  St.  Cleeve  slightly  deliri- 
ous again.  " 'Tis  God  A'mighty's,  of  course.  I  haven't 
seed  en  m}self;  but  they  say  he's  getting  bigger  every 
night,  and  that  he'll  be  the  biggest  one  known  for  fifty 
years  when  he's  full  growed.  There,  you  must  not  talk 
any  more  now,  or  I'll  go  away." 

Here  was  an  amazing  event,  litde  noise  as  it  had  made 
in  the  happening.  Of  all  phenomena  that  he  had  longed 
to  witness  during  his  short  astronomical  career,  those  ap- 
Dertainins:  to  comets  had  excited  him  most.  That  the 
magnificent  comet  of  1811  would  not  return  again  for 
thirty  centuries  had  been  quite  a  permanent  regret  with 
him.  And  now,  when  the  bottomless  abyss  of  death 
seemed  yawning  beneath  his  feet,  one  of  these  much- 
desired  apparitions,  as  large,  apparendy,  as  any  of  its 
tribe,  had  chosen  to  show  itself 

"Oh,  if  I  could  but  live  to  see  that  comet  through  my 
equatorial !  "  he  cried. 

Compared  with  comets,  variable  stars,  which  he  had 
hitherto  made  his  study,  were,  from  their  remoteness,  un- 
interesting. They  were  to  the  former  as  the  people  of 
Ujiji  or  Unyamwesi  to  the  people  of  his  own  country. 
Attached  to  the  solar  system,  these  dazzling  and  perplex- 


94  TWO    ON'  A    TOWER. 

ing  rangers,  the  Byrons  of  firmamental  celebrities,  the 
fascination  of  all  astronomers,  rendered  themselves  still 
more  fascinating  by  the  sinister  suspicion  attaching  to 
them  of  being  possibly  the  ultimate  destroyers  of  the 
human  race.  In  his  physical  prostration  St.  Cleeve  wept 
bitterly  at  not  being  hale  and  strong  enough  to  welcome 
with  proper  honor  the  new-come  specimen  of  these  de- 
sirable visitors. 

The  strenuous  wish  to  live  and  behold  the  new  phe- 
nomenon, supplanting  the  utter  weariness  of  existence  that 
he  had  heretofore  experienced,  lent  him  a  new  vitality. 
The  crisis  passed;  there  was  a  turn  for  the  better;  and 
after  that  he  rapidly  mended.  The  comet  had  in  all 
probability  saved  his  life.  The  limitless  and  complex 
wonders  of  the  sky  resumed  their  old  power  over  his  im- 
agination; the  possibilities  of  that  unfathomable  blue  ocean 
were  endless;  finer  feats  than  ever  he  would  perform  were 
to  be  achieved  in  its  investigation.  What  Lady  Constan- 
tine  had  said,  that  for  one  discovery  made  ten  awaited 
making,  was  strikingly  verified  by  the  sudden  appearance 
of  this  splendid  marvel. 

The  windows  of  St.  Cleeve's  bedroom  faced  the  west, 
and  nothing  would  satisfy  him  but  that  his  bed  should 
be  so  pulled  round  as  to  give  him  a  view  of  the  low  sky, 
in  which  the  as  yet  minute  tadpole  of  fire  was  recogniz- 
able. The  mere  sight  of  it  seemed  to  lend  him  sufficient 
resolution  to  complete  his  own  cure  forthwith.  His  only 
fear  now  was  lest,  from  some  unexpected  cause  or  other, 
the  comet  would  vanish  before  he  could  get  to  the  obser- 
vatory on  Rings-Hill  Speer. 

In  his  fervor  to  begin  observing,   he  directed  that  an 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  95 

old  telescope,  which  he  had  used  in  his  first  celestial 
attempts,  should  be  tied  atone  end  to  the  bedpost,  and 
at  the'  other  fixed  near  his  eye,  as  he  reclined.  Equipped' 
only  with  this  rough  improvisation,  he  began  to  take 
notes.  Lady  Constantine  was  forgotten,  till  one  day, 
suddenly,  wondering  if  she  knew  of  the  important  phe- 
nomenon, he  revolved  in  his  mind  whether,  as  a'ffellow-" 
student  and  sincere  friend  of  his,  she  ought  not  to  be 
sent  for,  and  instructed  in  the  use  of  the  equatorial. 

But  though  the  image  of  Lady  Constantine,  in  spite  of 
her  kindness  and  unmistakably  warm  heart,  had  been  ob- 
scured in  his  mind  by  the  heavenly  body,  she  had  not  so 
readily  forgotten  him.  Too  shy  to  repeat  her  visit  after  so 
nearly  betraying  herself,  she  yet,  every  day.  by  the  most 
ingenious  and  subtle  means  that  could  be  devised  by  a 
woman  who  feared  for  herself,  but  could  not  refrain  from 
tampering  with  danger,  ascertained  the  state  of  her  young 
friend's  health.  On  hearing  of  the  turn  in  his  condition 
she  rejoiced  on  his  account,  and  became  yet  more  despond- 
ent on  her  own.  If  he  had  died,  she  might  have  mused 
on  him  as  her  dear  departed  saint  without  much  sin;  but 
his  return  to  life  was  a  delight  that  bewildered  and  dismayed. 

One  evening,  a  little  later  on,  he  was  sitting  at  his  bed- 
room window,  as  usual,  waiting  for  a  sufficient  decline  of 
light  to  reveal  the  comet's  form,  when  he  beheld,  crossing 
the  field  contiguous  to  the  house,  a  figure  which  he  knew 
to  be  hers.  He  thought  she  must  be  coming  to  see  him 
on  the  great  comet  question,  to  discuss  which  with  so  de- 
lightful and  kind  a  comrade  was  an  expectation  full  of 
pleasure.  Hence  he  keenly  observed  her  approach,  till 
something  happened  that  surprised  him.      When,  at  the 


96  TWO    01^  A    TOWER. 

descent  of  the  hill,  she  reached  the  stile  that  admitted  to 
Mrs.  Martin's  garden,  Lady  Constantine  stood  quite  still 
for  a  minute  or  more,  her  gaze  bent  on  the  ground.  In- 
stead of  coming  on  to  the  house  she  went  heavily  and 
slowly  back,  almost  as  if  in  pain;  and  then  at  length, 
quickening  her  pace,  she  was  soon  out  of  sight.  She  ap- 
peared in  the  path  no  more  that  day. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

"Y  X  THY  had  Lady  Constantine  stopped  and  turned? 

*  *  A  misgiving  had  taken  sudden  possession  of  her. 
Her  true  sentiment  towards  St.  Cleeve  was  too  recognizable 
to  herself  to  be  tolerated. 

That  she  had  a  legitimate  interest  in  him  as  a  young  as- 
tronomer was  true;  that  her  sympathy  on  account  of  his 
severe  illness  had  been  natural  and  commendable  was  also 
true.  But  the  superfluous  feeling  was  what  filled  her  with 
trepidation.  Superfluities  have  been  defined  as  things  yuu 
cannot  do  without,  and  this  particular  emotion,  that  came 
not  within  her  rightful  measure,  was  just  such  a  superfluity 
with  her.  In  short,  she  felt  there  and  then  that  to  see  St. 
Cleeve  again  would  be  dangerous;  and  by  a  violent  effort 
she  retreated  from  his  precincts  as  he  had  observed. 

She  resolved  to  ennoble  her  conduct  from  that  moment 
of  her  life  onwards.  She  would  exercise  kind  patronage 
towards  Swithin  without  once  indulging  herself  with  his 
company.  Inexpressibly  dear  to  her  deserted  heart  he  was 
becoming,  but  for  the  future  he  should  at  least  be  hidden 
from  her  eyes.  To  speak  plainly,  it  was  growing  a  serious 
question  whether,  if  he  were  not  hidden  from  her  eyes,  she 


98  Tjvo  on  a   tower. 

would  not  Sdori  be  across  the  ragged  boundar}'  which  di- 
vides the  permissible  from  the  forbidden. 

By  the  time  she  drew  near  home  the  sun  was  going 
down.  The  heavy  and  handsome  church,  now  subdued 
by  violet  shadow,  except  where  its  upper  courses  caught 
the  western  stroke  of  flame-color,  stood  close  to  her 
grounds,  though  the  village  of  which  it  formerly  was  the 
nucleus  had  become  quite  depopulated,  its  cottages  having 
been  demolished  to  enlarge  the  park,  leaving  the  old  build- 
ing to  stand  there  alone,  like  a  standard  without  an  army. 
It  was  Friday  night,  and  she  heard  the  organist  practicing 
voluntaries  within.  The  hour,  the  notes,  the  even-song 
of  the  birds,  and  her  own  previous  emotions  combined  to 
influence  her  devotionaliy:  she  entered,  turning  to  the 
right  and  passing  under  the  chancel  arch,  where  she  sat 
down  and  viewed  the  whole  empty  length,  east  and  west. 
The  semi-Norman  arches  of  the  nave,  with  their  multi- 
tudinous notchings,  were  still  visible  by  the  light  from  the 
tower  window,  but  the  lower  portion  of  the  building  was 
in  obscurity,  except  where  the  feeble  glimmer  from  the 
candle  of  the  organist  spread  a  glow-worm  radiance  around. 
The  player,  who  was  Miss  Tabitha  Lark,  continued  with- 
out intermission  to  produce  her  wandering  sounds,  uncon- 
scious of  any  one's  presence  except  that  of  the  youthful 
blower  at  her  side. 

The  rays  from  the  organist's  candle  illuminated  but  one 
small  fragment  of  the  chancel  outside  the  precincts  of  the 
instrument,  and  that  was  the  portion  of  the  eastern  wall 
whereon  the  ten  commandments  were  inscribed.  The 
gilt  letters  shone  sternly  into  Lady  Constantine's  eyes;  and 
she,  being  as  impressionable  as  a  turtle-dove,  watched  one 


TfVO    ON  A     TOWER.  .99 

of  those  commandments  on  the  second  table,  till  its  thun- 
der broke  her  spirit  witli  blank  contrition. 

She  knelt  down,  and  did  her  utmost  to  eradicate  those 
impulses  towards  St.  Cleeve  which  were  inconsistent  with 
her  position  as  the  wife  of  an  absent  man,  though  not  un- 
natural in  her  as  his  victim. 

She  knelt  till  she  seemed  scarcely  to  belong  to  the  time 
she  lived  in,  which  lost  the  magnitude  that  the  nearness  of 
its  perspective  lent  it  on  ordinary  occasions,  and  took  its 
natural  rank  with  the  other  centuries.  Having  once  got 
out  of  herself,  she  was  calniL-r,  and  went  on  to  register  a 
magnanimous  vow.  She  would  look  about  for  some  maid- 
en  fit  and  likely  to  make  St.  Cleeve  happy;  and  this  girl 
she  would  endow  with  what  money  she  could  afford,  that 
the  natural  result  of  their  apposition  should  do  him  no 
worldly  harm.  The  interest  of  her,  Lady  Constantine's, 
life  should  be  in  watching  the  development  of  love  between 
Swithin  and  the  ideal  maiden. 

The  very  painfulness  of  the  scheme  to  her  susceptible 
heart  made  it  pleasing  to  her  conscience;  and  she  won- 
dered that  she  had  not  before  this  time  thought  of  a  strat 
agem  which  united  the  possibility  of  benefiting  the  astron- 
omer with  the  advantage  of  guarding  against  peril  to  both 
Swithin  and  herself  By  providing  for  him  a  suitable 
helpmate  she  would  preclude  the  dangerous  awakening  in 
l^m  of  sentiments  reciprocating  her  own.  Arrived  at  a 
point  of  exquisite  misery  through  this  heroic  intention, 
Lady  Constantine's  tears  moistened  the  books  upon  which 
her  forehead  was  bowed.  And  as  she  heard  her  feverish 
heart  throb  against  the  desk,  she  firmly  believed  the  wear- 
ing; impulses  of  that  heart  would  put  an  end  to  her  sad 


lOO  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

life,  and  momentarily  recalled  the  banished  image  of  St. 
Cleeve  to  apostrophize  him  in  a  paraphrase  of  the  poet's 
quaint  lines: — 

"  Dear  love,  press  tliy  hand  to  my  breast,  and  tell 
If  thou  tracest  the  knocks  in  tliat  narrow  cell: 
A  carpenter  dwells  there;  cunning  is  he, 
And  slyly  he's  shaping  a  coffin  for  me. 

"  He  hammers  and  knocks  by  night  and  by  day; 
My  repose  he  has  utterly  banished  away. 
O  carpenter,  carpenter,  prithee  work  fast. 
That  I  in  still  silence  may  slumber  at  last." 

Lady  Constantine  was  disturbed  by  a  break  in  the  or- 
ganist's meandering  practice,  and  raising  her  head  she  saw 
a  person  standing  by  the  player.  It  was  Mr.  Torkingham, 
and  what  he  said  was  distinctly  audible.  He  was  inquir- 
ing for  herself 

"  I  thought  I  saw  Lady  Constantine  walk  this  way,"  he 
rejo'ned  to  Tabitha's  negative.  "I  am  very  anxious  in- 
deed to  meet  with  her." 

She  went  forward.  "I  am  here,"  she  said.  "Don't 
stop  playing,  IMiss  Lark.      What  is  it,  Mr.  Torkingham.-*" 

Tabitha  thereupon  resumed  her  playing,  and  Mr.  Tor- 
kingham joined  Lady  Constantine. 

"  I  have  some  very  serious  intelligence  to  break  to  your 
ladyship,"  he  said.  ''  But — I  will  not  interrupt  you  here.  " 
(He  had  seen  her  rise  from  her  knees  to  come  to  him.) 
"  I  will  call  at  the  house  the  first  moment  you  can  receive 
me,  after  reaching  home." 

"No,  tell  me  here,"  she  said,  reseating  herself 

He  came  close,  and  placed  his  hand  on  the  popp}-hcad 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  lOI 

of  the  seat.  "I  have  received  a  telegram,"  he  resumed, 
haltingly,  "in  which  I  am  requested  to  prepare  you  for 
the  contents  of  a  letter  that  you  will  receive  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  I  am  quite  ready." 

"The  subject  is  briefly  this.  Lady  Constantine:  that  you 
have  been  a  widow  for  more  than  eighteen  months." 

"Dead!" 

"  Yes.  Sir  Blount  was  attacked  by  dy.sentery  and  ma- 
larious fever,  on  the  banks  of  the  Zonga  in  South  Africa, 
so  long  ago  as  last  October  twelvemonths,  and  it  carried 
him  off.  Of  the  three  men  who  were  with  him,  two  suc- 
cumbed to  the  same  illness,  a  hundred  miles  further  on; 
while  the  third,  retracing  his  steps  into  a  healthier  district, 
remained  there  with  a  native  tribe,  and  took  no  pains  to 
make  the  circumstances  known.  It  seems  to  be  only  by 
the  mere  accident  of  his  having  told  some  third  party  that 
we  know  of  the  matter  now.  This  is  all  I  can  tell  you 
nt  jjrescnt. " 

She  was  greatly  agitated  for  a  few  moments;  and  the  Ta- 
ble of  the  Lxw  opposite  glistened  indistinctly  upon  a  vision 
stiil  obscured  by  the  old  tears,  which  now  seemed  to  ap- 
peitain  to  another  dispensation. 

"  Shall  I  conduct  you  home.?  "  asked  the  parson. 

'No,  thank  you,"  said  Lady  Constantine.  "I  wouUi 
rather  go  alone. " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

/^N  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  Mr.  Torkingham,  whc 
^^  occasionally  dropped  in  to  see  St.  Cleeve,  called 
again  as  usual,  and  after  duly  remarking  on  the  state  of 
the  weather,  congratulating  him  on  his  sure  though  slow 
improvement,  and  answering  his  inquiries  about  the  comet, 
said,  "You  have  heard,  I  suppose,  of  what  has  happened 
to  Lady  Constant]  ne  .'  " 

"No.     Good  heavens  !     Nothing  serious. '' 

"Yes,  it  is  serious."  The  parson  informed  him  of  the 
death  of  Sir  Blount,  and  of  the  accidents  which  had  hin- 
dered all  knowledge  of  the  same, — accidents  favored  by 
the  estrangement  of  the  pair,  and  the  lack  of  correspond- 
ence between  them  for  some  time. 

His  listener  received  the  news  with  the  concern  of  a 
fiiend,  Lady  Constantine's  aspect  in  his  eyes  depending 
but  little  on  her  condition  matrimonially. 

"T5>ei|€  was  no  attempt  to  bring  him  home  when  he 

*  0;h,  n,o.     The  climate  necessitates  instant  burial.     We 
shall  h^y'i?  more  particulars  in  a  day  or  two,,  doubtless." 
"  I-QOr  Lady.  Constantine, — so  good  and  so  emotionajl 


riFO    OJV  A    TOWER.  I03 

as  she  is !     I  suppose  she  is  quite  prostrated  by  the  bad 

news. " 

"Well,  she  is  rather  serious, — not  prostrated.  The 
household  is  going  into  mourning." 

"Ah  no,  she  would  not  be  quite  prostrated,"  mur- 
mured Swilliin,  recollecting  himself.  "He  was  unkind 
to  her  in  many  ways.  Do  you  think  she  will  go  away 
from  Wei  land  ?  " 

That  the  vicar  could  not  tell.  But  he  feared  that  Sir 
Blount's  affairs  had  been  in  a  seriously  involved  condition, 
which  might  necessitate  many  and  unexpected  changes. 

Time  showed  that  Mr.  Torkingham's  surmises  were  cor- 
rect. During  the  long  weeks  of  early  summer,  through 
which  the  young  man  still  lay  imprisoned,  if  not  within; 
his  own  chamber;  within  the  limits  of  the  house  and  gar- 
den, news  reached  him  that  Sir  Blounts  mismanagement; 
and  eccentric  behavior  were  resulting  in  serious  conse- 
quences to  Lady  Constantine;  nothing  less,  indeed,  than 
her  almost  complete  impoverishment.  His  personality  was 
swallowed  up  in  paying  his  debts,  and  the  Welland  estate 
was  so  heavily  charged  with  annuities  to  his  distant  rela- 
tives that  onl\'  a  mere  pittance  was  left  for  her.  She  was 
reducing  the  establishment  to  the  narrowest  compass  com- 
patible with  decent  gentility.  The  horses  were  sold  one 
by  one;  the  greater  part  of  the  house  was  shut  up,  and  she 
resided  in  the  smallest  rooms.  All  that  was  allowed  to  re- 
ro.ain  of  her  former  contingent  of  male  servants  were  an 
odd  man  and  a  boy.  Instead  of  using  a  carriage,  she 
now  drove  about  in  a  donkey-chair,  the  said  boy  walking 
in  front  to  clear  the  way  and  keep  the  animal  in  motion; 
while  she  wore,  so  his  infor\nants  reported,,  not  an  ord.i-> 


104  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

nary  widow's  cap  or  bonnet,  but  something  even  plainer, 
the  black  material  being  drawn  tightly  round  her  face,  giv- 
ing her  features  a  small,  demure,  devout  cast,  very  pleas- 
ing to  the  eye. 

"  Now  what's  the  most  curious  thing  in  this,  Mr.  San 
Cleeve, "  said  Sammy  Blore,  who,  in  calling  to  inquire 
after  Swithin's  health,  had  imparted  some  of  the  above 
particulars,  '"is  that  my  lady  seems  not  to  mind  being  a 
pore  woman  half  so  much  as  we  do  at  seeing  her  so.  'Tis 
a  wonderful  gift,  Mr.  San  Cleeve,  to  be  able  to  guide  yer- 
.self,  and  not  let  loose  yer  soul  at  such  a  misfortune.  I 
should  go  and  drink  neat  if  it  had  happened  to  me;  but 
my  lady's  plan  is  best,  though  I  only  know  such  practices 
by  hearsay,  to  be  sui-e,  for  I  never  had  nothing  to  lose." 

Meanwhile,  the  observatory  was  not  forgotten;  nor  that 
visitant  of  singular  shape  and  habits,  which  had  appeared 
in  the  sky  from  no  one  knew  whither,  trailing  its  lumi- 
nous streamer,  and  proceeding  on  its  way  in  the  face  of  a 
wondering  world,  till  it  should  choose  to  vanish  as  sud- 
denly as  it  had  come.  When,  about  a  month  after  the 
above  dialogue  took  place,  Swithin  was  allowed  to  go  about 
as  usual,  his  first  pilgrimage  was  to  the  Rings- Hill  Speer. 
Here  he  studied  at  leisure  what  he  had  come  to  see. 

On  his  return  to  the  homestead,  just  after  sunset,  he 
found  his  grandmother  and  Hannah  in  a  state  of  great 
concern.  The  former  was  looking  out  for  him  against  the 
evening  light,  her  face  showing  itself  worn  and  rutted  like 
an  old  highway  by  the  passing  of  many  days.  Her  infor- 
mation was  that  in  his  absence  Lady  Constantine  had  called 
in  her  driving-chair,  to  inquire  for  him.  Her  ladyship  had 
wished  to  observe  the  comet  through  the  gieat  telescope^ 


Tivo  OjV  a   tower.  105 

but  had  found  the  door  locked  when  she  apphed  at  the 
tower.  Would  he  kindly  leave  the  door  unfastened  to- 
morrow, she  had  asked,  that  she  might  be  able  to  go  to 
ihe  column  on  the  following  evening,  for  the  same  pur- 
pose ?     She  did  not  require  him  to  attend. 

During  the  next  day  he  sent  Hannah  with  the  key  to 
Welland  House,  not  caring  to  leave  the  tower  open.  As 
evening  advanced  and  the  comet  grew  distinct,  he  doubted 
if  Lady  Constantine  could  handle  the  telescope  alone  with 
any  pleasure  or  profit  to  herself.  Unable,  as  a  devotee  to 
science,  to  rest  under  this  misgiving,  he  crossed  the  field 
in  the  furrow  that  he  had  used  ever  since  the  corn  was 
sown,  and  entered  the  plantation.  His  unpracticed  mind 
never  once  guessed  that  her  stipulations  against  his  com- 
ing might  have  arisen  from  a  sense  that  such  meetings  had 
already  been  too  frequent  to  bear  repetition  with  propriel}-, 
innocent  as  they  had  been  in  fact  and  intent. 

On  ascending  he  found  her  already  there.  She  sat  in 
the  observing-chair:  the  warm  light  from  the  west,  which 
flowed  in  through  the  opening  of  the  dome,  brightened 
her  face,  and  her  face  only,  her  robes  of  sable  lawn  ren- 
dering the  remainder  of  her  figure  almost  invisible. 

"  Vou  have  come  !  "  she  said,  with  some  dismay.  "  I 
d:d  not  require  you.  But  never  mind."  She  extended 
her  hand  cordially  to  him. 

Before  speaking  he  looked  at  her  with  a  great  new  in- 
terest in  his  eye.  It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  seen 
her  thus,  and  she  was  altered  in  more  than  dress. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say.?  "  she  continued.  ''  Your 
footsteps  were  audible  to  me  from  the  very  bottom,  and  I 
knew  they  wtre  yours.     You  look  almost  restored." 


lo6  TfVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

"  I  am  almost  restored,"  he  replied,  respectfuliy  pressing 
her  hand.      "A  reason  for  living  arose,  and  I  lived." 

"What  reason  .?  "  she  quickly  inquired. 

He  pointed  to  the  rocket-like  object  in  the  western  sky. 
His  eyes  tlien  returned  to  her  face,  whose  soberly-sweet  ex- 
pression was  of  a  rare  and  peculiar  kind, — something  that 
he  had  never  seen  before  in  woman. 

"You  mean  the  comet?  Well,  you  will  never  make  a 
courtier  !  You  know,  of  course,  what  has  happened  to 
me.  Have  you  also  heard  that  I  am  now  quite  a  poor 
woman  }     Tell  me  what  you  think  of  it." 

"  I  have  thought  very  little  of  it,  since  I  heard  that  you 
seemed  to  mind  it  but  little.  There  is  even  this  good  in 
it,  that  I  may  now  be  able  to  show  you  some  little  kind- 
ness for  all  those  you  have  done  me,  my  dear  lady. " 

"Unless,  for  economy's  sake,  I  go  and  live  abroad, — 
at  Dinan,  Versailles,  or  Boulogne." 

Swithin,  who  had  never  thought  of  such  a  contingency, 
was  earnest  in  his  regrets;  without,  however,  showing  more 
than  a  sincere  friend's  disappointment. 

"  I  did  not  say  it  was  absolutely  necessary,"  she  contin- 
ued. "I  have,  in  fact,  grown  so  homely  and  home-lov- 
ing, I  am  so  interested  in  the  place  and  the  people  here, 
that,  in  spite  of  advice,  I  have  almost  determined  not  to 
let  the  house;  but  to  continue  the  less  business-like  but 
pleasanter  alternative  of  living  humbly  in  a  part  of  it,  and 
shutting  up  the  rest." 

"Your  love  of  astronomy  is  getting  as  strong  as  mine  !" 
he  said  ardently.  ' '  You  could  not  tear  yourself  away  from 
the  observatory  'i  " 

*''  Yon  might  have  supposed  me  capa,l)le  of  a  litUe  hu- 


Tli^O    OAT  A    TOWER,  I07 

man  feeling  as  well  as  scientific,  in  connection  with  the 
obsei"vatory. " 

"Dear  Lady  Constantine,  by  admitting  that  your  as- 
tronomer has  also  a  part  of  your  interest" — 

"Ah,  you  did  not  find  it  out  without  my  telling  !  "  she 
said,  with  a  playfulness  which  was  scarcely  playful,  a  slight 
accession  of  pinkness  being  visible  in  her  face.  "I  di- 
minish myself  in  your  esteem  by  reminding  you." 

"  You  might  do  anything  in  this  world  without  dimin- 
ishing yourself  in  my  esteem,  after  the  goodness  you  have 
shown.  And  more  than  that,  no  misrepresentation,  no 
rumor,  no  damning  appearance  whatever,  would  ever 
shake  my  loyalty  to  you." 

"But  you  put  a  very  matter-of-fact  construction  on  my 
motives,  sometimes.  You  see  me  in  such  a  hard  light 
that  I  have  to  drop  hints  in  quite  a  manoeuvring  manner 
to  let  you  know  I  am  as  sympathetic  as  other  people.  I 
sometimes  think  you  would  rather  have  me  die  than  have 
your  equatorial  stolen.  Confess  that  your  admiration  for 
me  was  based  on  my  house  and  position  in  the  county  ! 
Now  I  am  shorn  of  all  that  glory,  such  as  it  was,  and  am 
a  widow,  and  am  poorer  than  my  tenants,  and  can  no 
longer  buy  telescopes,  and  am  unable,  from  the  narrow- 
ness of  my  circumstances,  to  mix  in  circles  that  people 
formerly  said  I  adorned,  I  fear  I  have  lost  the  little  hold 
I  once  had  over  you." 

"You  are  as  unjust  now  as  you  have  been  generous 
hitherto, "  said  St.  Clceve,  with  tears  in  his  eyes  at  the  gen- 
tle banter  of  the  lady,  which  he,  poor  innocent,  read  as 
her  real  opinions.  Seizing  her  hand,  he  continued,  in 
tones  between  reproach  and  anger,   "I  swear  to  you  that 


lo8  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

I  have  but  two  devotions,  two  thoughts,  two  hopes,  and 
two  blessings  in  this  world,  and  that  one  of  them  is 
yourself!  " 

"And  the  other?" 

"The  pursuit  of  astronomy." 

"And  astronomy  stands  first." 

"  I  have  never  ordinated  two  such  di.ssimilar  ideas.  And 
why  should  you  deplore  your  altered  circumstances,  my 
dear  lady .''  Your  widowhood,  if  I  may  take  the  liberty  to 
speak  on  such  a  subject,  is,  though  I  suppose  a  sadness, 
not  perhaps  an  unmixed  evil.  For  though  your  pecuniary 
troubles  have  been  discovered  to  the  world  and  yourself 
thereby,  your  happiness  in  marriage  was,  as  you  have  gen- 
erously confided  to  me,  not  great;  and  you  are  now  left 
free  as  a  bird  to  follow  your  own  hobbies. " 

"I  wonder  you  recognize  that." 

"But  perhaps,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh  of  regret,  "you 
will  again  fall  a  prey  to  some  man,  some  uninteresting 
country  squire  or  other,  and  be  lost  to  the  scientific  world, 
after  all." 

"  If  I  fall  a  prey  to  any  man,  it  will  not  b  •  to  a  (  ::Ury 
squire.  But  don't  go  on  with  this,  for  Heav  n'-;  :.i';el 
You  may  think  what  you  like  in  silence." 

"We  are  forgetting  the  comet, "said  St.  Clecvc.  He 
turned,  and  set  the  instrument  in  order  for  observation, 
and  wheeled  round  the  dome.  While  they  were  looking 
at  the  nucleus  of  the  fiery  plume,  that  now  filled  so  large 
a  space  of  the  sky  as  completely  to  dominate  it,  Swithin 
dropped  his  gaze  upon  the  field,  and  beheld  in  the  dying 
light  a  number  of  laborers  crossing  it  directly  towards  the 
column. 


TPVO    OX  A    TOWER.  I09 

"What  do  you  see?  "  Lady  Constantine  asked,  without 
ceasing  to  observe  the  comet. 

"Some  of  the  work-folk  are  coming  this  way.  I  know 
what  they  are  coming  for, — I  promised  to  let  them  look 
at  the  comet  through  the  glass. " 

"They  must  not  come  up  here,"  she  said  decisively. 

"  They  shall  await  your  time." 

' '  I  have  a  special  reason  for  wishing  them  not  to  see 
me  here.  If  you  ask  why,  I  can  tell  you.  They  mis- 
takenly suspect  my  interest  to  be  less  in  astronomy  than 
in  the  astronomer,  and  they  must  have  no  showing  for  such 
a  wild  notion.     What  can  you  do  to  keep  them  out .?  " 

"I"ll  lock  the  door,"  said  Swithin.  "They  will  then 
think  I  am  away." 

He  ran  down  the  staircase,  and  she  could  hear  him  has- 
tily turning  the  key.      Lady  Constantine  sighed. 

"What  weakness,  what  weakness  !  "  she  said  to  herself. 
"That  envied  power  of  self-control, — where  is  \\.}  That 
power  of  concealment  which  a  woman  should  have,  — where .' 
To  run  such  risks,  to  come  here  alone, — oh,  if  it  were 
known  !     But  I  was  always  so, — always  !  " 

She  jumped  up,  and  followed  him  downstairs. 


CHAPTER  Xlli. 

HE  was  sUudir.g  i•.n.n^;diately  inside  the  door  at  the 
bottom,  t'ii'o-Ji'j.  icwas  so  dark  she  could  hardly  see 
him.     The  vuJagerj  were  audibly  talking  just  without. 

"  He's  su'-e  co  come,  sooner  or  later,"  resounded  up  the 
spiral  in  ihe  voice  of  Hezzy  Biles.  ' '  He  wouldn't  let 
such  a  fine  show  as  the  comet  makes  to-night  go  by  with- 
out peeping  at  it, — not  Master  Cleeve  !  Did  ye  bring 
along  the  flagon,  Haymoss  ?  Then  we'll  sit  down  inside 
the  hut  here  and  wait.  He'll  come  afore  bed-time.  Why, 
his  sf>y-glass  will  stretch  out  that  there  comet  as  long  as 
Wei  land  Lane." 

"I'd  as  soon  miss  the  great  peep-show  that  comes 
every  year  to  Greenhill  Fair  as  a  sight  of  such  a  immortal 
spectacle  as  this ! " 

" 'Immortal  spectacle,' — where  did  ye  get  that  choice 
morsel,  Haymoss.?"  inquired  Sammy  Blore.  "Well, 
well,  the  Lord  save  the  simple.  But,  as  'tis  so  dark  in 
the  hut,  suppose  we  draw  out  the  bench  into  the  fijnt 
here,  souls  ?  " 

The  bench  was  accordingly  brought  forth,  and  in  o  der 
to  have  a  back  to  lean  against  they  placed  it  exactly  across 
the  door  into  the  spiral  staircase.      "Now,   have  ye  got 


TJVO    ON  A     TOWER.  Ill 

any  backer?  If  ye  haven't,  I  have,"  continued  Sammy 
Blore.  A  striking  of  matches  followed,  and'the  speaker 
concluded  comfortably,  "Now  we  shall  do  very  well." 

"And  what  do  this  comet  mean?"  asked  Haymoss. 
"That  some  great  tumult  is  going  to  happen,  or  that 
we  shall  die  of  a  famine  ?  " 

"Famine? — no,"  said  Nat  Chapman.  "That  only 
touches  such  as  we,  and  God  only  concerns  himself  wi' 
his  upper  creatures.  It  isn't  to  be  supposed  that  a  strange 
fiery  lantern  like  that  would  be  lighted  up  for  folks  with 
ten  or  a  dozen  shillings  a  week  and  their  gristing,  and 
a  load  o'  thorn  fagots  when  we  can  get  'em.  If  'tis  a 
signal  to  mend  the  ways  of  anybody  in  this  parish,  'tis 
to  my  Lady  Constantine,  since  she  is  the  only  one  with 
feelings  worth  such  a  hint." 

"As  for  her  income, — that  she's  now  lost' 

"Ah,  well;  I  don't  take  in  all  I  hear." 

Lady  Constantine  drew  close  to  St.  Cleeve's  side,  and 
whispered,  trembling,  "Do  you  think  they  will  wait 
long  ?     Or  can  we  get  out  ?  " 

Swithin  felt  the  awkwardness  of  the  situation.  The 
men  had  stupidly  placed  the  bench  close  to  the  door, 
which,  owing  to  the  stairs  within,  opened  outwards;  so 
that,  at  the  first  push  by  the  pair  inside  to  release  them- 
selves, the  bench  must  have  gone  over,  and  sent  the 
smokers  sprawling  on  their  faces.  He  whispered  to  her 
to  ascend  the  column  and  wait  till  he  came. 

"And  have  the  dead  man  left  her  nothing?  And  have 
he  carried  his  inheritance  into  's  grave?  And  will  his 
skeleton  lie  warm  on  account  o't  ?  Hee-hee ! "  said 
Haymoss. 


112  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

"Tis  all  swallered  up,"  observed  Hezzy  Biles.  "His 
goings-on  made  her  miserable  till  'a  died,  and  if  I  were 
the  woman  I'd  have  my  antics  now.  He  ought  to  have 
bequeathed  to  her  this  young  gendeman,  Mr.  St.  Cleeve, 
as  some  sort  of  amends.  I'd  up  and  marry  him  if  I  were 
she;  since  her  downfall  has  brought  'em  quite  near  to- 
gether, and  made  him  as  good  as  she  in  rank,  as  he  was 
afore  in  bone  and  breeding." 

"D'ye  think  she' will .?  "  asked  Sammy  Blore.  "Or 
is  she  intending  virginity  for  the  rest  of  her  days .''  " 

"I  don't  want  to  be  unreverent  to  her  ladyship;  but 
I  really  don't  think  she  is  intending  any  such  desperate 
martyring  of  herself  I  say  she's  rather  intending  to  com- 
mit lawful  matrimony  with  somebody  or  other,  and  one 
young  gentleman  in  particular." 

"  But  the  young  man  himself?  " 

"Planned,    cut  out,    and   finished   for  the  delight  of 


woman 


"  Yet  he  must  be  willing." 

"That  would  soon  come.  If  they  get  up  this  tower 
ruling  plannards  together  much  longer,  their  plannards 
will  soon  rule  them  together,  in  my  way  of  thinking.  If 
she've  a  disposition  towards  the  knot,  she  can  soon  teach 
him." 

"True,  true,  and  lawfully.  What  before  might  ha' 
been  a  wrong  desire  is  now  a  holy  wish. " 

The  scales  fell  from  Swithin  St.  Cleeve's  eyes  as  he 
neard  the  words  of  his  neighbors.  How  suddenly  the 
truth  dawned  upon  him;  how  it  bewildered  him,  till  he 
scarcely  knew  where  he  was;  how  he  recalled  the  full  force 
of  what  he  had  only  half  apprehended  at  earlier  times, — 


TJVO    ON  A    TOWEk.  1 13 

these  vivid  things  are  difficult  to  tell  in  slow  verbiage. 
He  could  remain  there  no  longer,  and  with  an  electrified 
heart  he  retreated  up  the  spiral.  He  found  Lady  Con- 
stantine  half-way  to  the  top,  standing  by  a  loop-hole,  and 
when  she  spoke  he  discovered  that  she  was  almost  in 
tears.      "Are  they  gone  .'  "  she  asked. 

"I  fear  they  will  not  go  yet,"  he  replied,  with  a  ner- 
vous fluctuation  of  manner  that  had  never  before  ap- 
peared in  his  bearing  towards  her. 

"  What  shall  I  do.'  "  she  asked.  "  I  ought  not  to  be 
here;  nobody  knows  that  I  am  out  of  the  house.  Oh, 
this  is  a  mistake  !     I  must  'go  home  somehow." 

"  Did  you  hear  what  they  were  saying .'  " 

"No,"  said  she.  "What  is  the  matter?  Surely  you 
are  trembling  }     What  did  they  say .'  " 

"It  would  be  the  exaggeration  of  frankness  in  me  to 
tell  you." 

"Is  it  what  a  woman  ought  not  to  be  made  acquainted 
with .? " 

"  It  is,  in  this  case.  It  is  so  new  and  so  indescribable 
an  idea  to  me — that" —  He  leant  against  the  concave 
wall,  quite  tremulous  with  strange  incipient  sentiments. 

"  What  sort  of  an  idea.?  "  she  asked  gently. 

"It  is — an  awakening.  In  thinking  of  the  heaven 
above,  I  did  not  perceive — the  " — 

"  Earth  beneath.-* " 

"The  other  heaven  beneath.  Pray,  dear  Lady  Con- 
stantine,  give  me  vour  hand  for  a  moment ! " 

She  seemed  startled,  and  the  hand  was  not  given.  "I 
am  so  anxious  to  get  home,"  she  repeated.  "I  did  not 
mean  to  stay  here  more  than  five  minutes ! " 


It4  TlVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

"  I  fear  I  am  much  to  blame  for  this  accident,"  he  said 
"I  ought  not  to  have  intruded  here.  But  don't  grievel 
I  will  arrange  for  your  escape,  somehow.  Be  good 
enough  to  follow  me  down." 

They  redescended,  and,  whispering  to  Lady  Constan- 
tine  to  remain  a  few  stairs  behind,  he  began  to  rattle  and 
unlock  the  door.  The  men  precipitately  removed  their 
bench,  and  Swithin  stepped  out,  the  light  of  the  summer 
night  being  still  enough  to  enable  them  to  distinguish 
him. 

"Well,  Hezekiah,  and  Samuel,  and  Nat,  how  are 
you  .''  "  he  said  boldly. 

"Well,  sir,  'tis  much  as  before  with  me,"  replied  Nat. 
"  One  hour  a  week  with  God  and  the  rest  with  the  devil, 
as  a  man  may  say.  And  really,  now  yer  poor  father's 
gone,  I'd  as  lief  that  Sunday  hour  should  go  like  the 
rest;  for  Pa'son  Tarkenham  do  tease  a  feller's  conscience 
that  much  that  church  is  no  hollerday  at  all  to  the  limbs, 
as  it  was  in  yer  reverent  father's  time.  But  we've  been 
waiting  here,  Mr.  San  Cleeve,  supposing  ye  had  not 
come." 

"  I  have  been  sitting  at  the  top,  and  fastened  the  door 
not  to  be  disturbed.  Now  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you, 
but  I  have  another  engagement  this  evening,  so  that  it 
would  be  inconvenient  to  admit  you.  To-morrow  even- 
ing, or  any  evening  but  this,  I  will  show  you  the  comet 
and  any  stars  you  like." 

They  readily  agreed  to  come  the  next  night,  and  pre- 
pared to  depart.  But  what  with  the  flagon  and  the  pipes 
and  the  final  observations,  getting  away  was  a  matter  of 
time.      ^Meanwhile,   a  cloud,  which  nobody  had  noticed, 


Tiro    ON  A     TOWER.  II5 

had  arisen  from  the  north  overhead,  and  large  drops  of 
rain  began  to  fall  so  rapidl)-  that  the  conclave  entered 
the  hut  till  it  should  be  over.  St.  Cleeve  strolled  off 
under  the  firs.  The  next  moment  there  was  a  rustling 
through  the  trees  at  another  point,  and  a  man  and  woman 
appeared.  The  woman  took  shelter  under  a  tree,  and 
the  man,  bearing  wraps  and  umbrellas,  came  forward. 

"My  lady's  man  and  maid,"  said  Sammy. 

"  Is  her  ladyship  here  .'  "  asked  the  man. 

"Her  ladyship  keeps  more  kissable  company,"  replied 
Nat  Chapman. 

"Hush  !"  said  Blore. 

"Not  here .?  Well,  to  be  sure.'  We  can't  find  her  any- 
where in  the  wide  house  !  I've  been  sent  to  look  for  her 
w^th  these  overclothes  and  umbrella.  I've  suffered  horse- 
flesh traipsing  up  and  down,  and  can't  find  her  nowhere. 
Lord,  Lord,  where  can  she  be,  and  two  months'  wages 
owing  to  me  !  " 

"Why  so  anxious,  Anthony  Green,  as  I  think  your 
name  is  shaped .?  You  be  not  a  married  man .? "  said 
Hezzy. 

"'Tis  what  they  call  me,  neighbors,  whether  or  no." 

"  But  surely  you  was  a  bachelor  chap  by  late,  afore  her 
ladyship  got  rid  of  the  regular  servants  and  took  ye }  " 

"I  were;  but  that's  past." 

"And  how  came  ye  to  bow  yer  head  to  't,  Anthony.' 
Tis  what  you  never  was  inclined  to.  You  was  by  no 
means  a  doting  man  in  my  time." 

' '  Well,  had  I  been  left  to  my  own  free  choice,  'tis  as 
like  as  not  I  should  ha'  shunned  forming  such  kindred, 
being  at  that  time  a  poor  day  man,  or  weekly,  at  my  high- 


Il6  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

est  luck  in  hiring.  But  'tis  wearing  work  to  hold  out 
against  common  usage,  and  the  woman  wantmg  ye  to 
stand  by  her  and  save  her  trom  unborn  shame;  so,  since 
custom  would  have  it,  I  let  myself  be  carried  away  by 
Dpinion  and  took  her.  Though  she's  never  once  thanked 
me  for  covering  her  confusion,  that's  true.  Well,  well, 
'tis  the  way  of  God's  creatures,  as  a  man  may  say,  and  I 
don't  complain.  Here  she  is,  just  behind,  under  the  tree, 
if  you'd  like  to  see  her.  Well,  well,  where  can  my  lady 
be.''  And  I  the  trusty  jineral  man, — 'tis  more  than  my 
place  is  worth  to  lose  her  !  Come  forward,  Christiana, 
and  talk  to  the  gentlemen." 

While  the  woman  was  talking,  the  rain  increased  so 
much  that  they  all  retreated  further  into  the  hut.  St. 
Cleeve,  who  had  impatiently  stood  a  little  way  off,  now 
saw  his  opportunity,  and,  putting  in  his  head,  said,  "The 
rain  beats  in;  you  had  better  shut  the  door.  I  must  as- 
cend and  close  up  the  dome."  Slamming  the  door  upon 
them  without  ceremony,  he  quickly  went  to  poor  Lady 
Constantine  in  the  column,  and  telling  her  she  could  pass 
them  unseen  gave  her  his  arm;  thus  he  conducted  her 
across  the  front  of  the  hut  into  the  shadows  of  the  firs. 

"1  will  run  to  the  house  and  harness  your  little  car- 
riage myself,"  he  said  tenderly.  "I  will  then  take  you 
home  in  it." 

"No;  please  don't  leave  me  alone  under  these  dismal 
trees."  Neither  would  she  hear  of  his  getting  her  any 
U'raps;  and,  opening  her  little  sunshade  to  keep  the  rain 
out  of  her  face,  she  walked  with  him  across  the  insulating 
field,  after  which  the  trees  of  the  park  afforded  her  a  suffi- 
cient shelter  to  reach  home  without  much  "damage.     Swith- 


71 FO    O.V   A     rOlVER.  W] 

in  was  too  greatly  afifectcd  b\'  what  he  had  overheard  to 
speak  much  to  her  on  tlie  way,  and  protected  her  as  if  she 
had  been  a  shorn  lamb.  After  a  farewell  which  had  more 
meaning  than  sound  in  it,  he  hastened  back  to  Rings-Hill 
Speer.  The  workfolk  were  still  in  the  hut,  and  by  dint 
of  friendly  converse  and  a  sip  at  the  flagon  had-so  cheered 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Anthony  Green  that  they  neither  thought 
nor  cared  what  had  become  of  Lady  Constantine. 

St.  Cleeve's  sudden  sense  of  new  relations  with  that  sweet 
patroness  had  taken  away  in  one  half  hour  his  natural  in- 
genuousness.     Henceforth  he  could  act  a  part. 

''I  have  made  all  secure  at  the  top,"  he  said,  putting 
his  head  into  the  hut.  "I  am  now  going  home.  When 
the  rain  ceases,  lock  this  door  and  bring  the  key  to  my 
house." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

"D  URAL  solitude,  which  provides  ample  themes  for  the 
-^^  intellect  and  sweet  occupations  innumerable  for 
the  minor  sentiments,  affords  no  normal  channel  for  those 
stronger  passions  that  enter  no  less  than  the  others  into  the 
complicated  stream  of  human  consciousness.  The  sus- 
pended pathos  finds  its  remedy  in  crystallizing  on  the  first 
intrusive  object  that  happens  to  be  reasonably  well  organ- 
ized for  the  purpose,  regardless  of  reasonable  accessories. 
Where  the  solitude  is  shadowed  by  the  secret  melancholies 
of  the  solitary,  this  process  is  still  surer  in  operation. 

The  labored  resistance  which  Lady  Constantine's  judg- 
ment had  offered  to  her  rebellious  affection  ere  she  learnt 
that  she  was  a  widow,  and  which  had  taken  the  form  of 
sharp  remorse,  became  now  an  inward  bashfulness,  that 
rendered  her  even  more  unstable  of  mood  tha,n  she  was 
before.  However,  having  discovered  herself  to  love  this 
handsome  youth  of  intellectual  promise,  she  was  one  of 
that  mettle,  fervid,  cordial,  and  spontaneous,  who  would 
rather  see  all  her  affairs  going  to  rack  and  ruin  than  abjure 
a  tender  faith  in  anybody  to  repair  them.  But  they  had 
already  gone  to  rack  and  ruin  by  no  fault  of  hers,  and  had 


TWO    ON  A     TOWER.  II9 

left  her  such  a  painfully  narrowed  existence  as  even  lent 
something  of  rationality  to  her  attachment.  Thus  it  was 
that  her  restful  and  unambitious  soul  found  comfort  in  her 
reverses. 

As  for  St.  Cleeve,  the  tardiness  of  his  awakening  was  the 
natural  result  of  his  inexperience  combined  with  devotion 
to  his  hobby.  But,  like  a  spring  bud  hard  in  bursting, 
the  delay  was  compensated  by  after-speed.  At  once  breath- 
lessly recognizing  in  his  fellow-watcher  of  the  skies  a  hand- 
some woman  attached  to  him  in  addition  to  the  patroness 
and  friend,  he  truly  translated  the  nearly  forgotten  kiss  she 
had  given  him  in  her  moment  of  despair.  The  first  word 
of  self-communing  about  her  in  this  aspect  begot  a  sec- 
ond, and  the  second  a  third,  and  so  on  to  the  end  of  the 
chapter  of  development  which  makes  up  the  growth  of  a 
love. 

Lady  Constantine,  in  being  seven  years  his  senior,  was 
an  object  even  better  calculated  to  nourish  a  youth's  first 
passion  than  any  girl  his  own  age,  superiority  of  experi- 
ence and  ripeness  of  emotion  exercising  a  peculiar  fascina- 
tion over  young  men  in  their  first  ventures  in  this  kind. 

The  alchemy  which. thus  transmuted  an  abstracted  as- 
tronomer into  an  eager  lover — alas,  must  it  be  said,  spoilt 
a  promising  young  physicist  to  produce  a  commonplace 
inamorato  .■" — may  be  almost  described  as  working  its  change 
in  one  short  night.  Next  morning  he  was  so  fascinated 
with  the  new  sensation  that  he  wanted  to  rush  off  at  once 
to  Lady  Constantine,  and  say,  "I  love  you  true!"  in  the 
intensest  tones  of  that  mental  condition,  so  as  to  register 
his  assertion  in  her  heart  before  any  of  those  accidents  which 
"creep  in  'twixt  vows,  and  change  decrees  of  kings,"  should 


I20  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

occur  to  hinder  him.  But  his  embarrassment  at  standing 
in  a  new  position  towards  her  would  not  allow  him  to  pre- 
sent himself  at  her  door  in  any  such  hurry.  He  waited 
on,  as  helplessly  as  a  girl,  for  a  chance  of  encountering 
her. 

But  though  she  had  tacitly  agreed  to  see  him  on  any 
reasonable  occasion,  Lady  Constantine  did  not  put  herself 
in  his  way.  She  even  kept  herself  out  of  his  way.  Now 
that  for  the  first  time  he  had  learnt  to  feel  a  strong  impa- 
tience for  their  meeting,  her  shyness  for  the  first  time  led 
her  to  delay  it.  But  given  two  people  living  in  one  parish, 
who  long  from  the  depths  of  their  hearts  to  be  in  each  oth- 
er's company,  what  resolves  of  modesty,  policy,  pride,  or 
apprehension  will  keep  them  for  any  length  of  time  apart  .f* 
One  afternoon  he  was  watching  the  sun  from  his  tower, 
and  half  echoing  the  Greek  astronomer's  wish  that  he  might 
be  set  close  to  that  luminary  for  the  wonder  of  beholding 
it  in  all  its  glory,  at  the  slight  penalty  of  being  utterly  con- 
sumed the  next  instant.  Glancing  over  the  high-road  be- 
tween the  field  and  the  park  (which  sublunary  features  now 
too  often  distracted  his  attention  from  his  telescope),  he 
saw  her  passing  along  that  way.  She  was  seated  in  the 
donkey-carriage,  that  had  now  taken  the  place  of  her  lan- 
dau, the  white  animal  looking  no  larger  than  a  cat  at  that 
distance.  The  buttoned  boy,  who  represented  both  coach- 
man and  footman,  walked  alongside  the  animal's  head  at 
a  solemn  pace;  the  dog  stalked  at  the  distance  of  a  yard 
behind  the  vehicle,  without  indulging  in  a  single  gambol; 
and  the  whole  turn-out  resembled  in  dignity  a  dwarfed 
state  procession. 

Here  was  an  excellent  opportunity  but  for  two  obstruc- 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  IZ\ 

tions:  the  boy,  who  might  be  curious;  and  the  dog,  who 
might  bark  and  attract  the  attention  of  any  laborers  or  ser- 
vants near.  Yet  tlie  risk  was  to  be  run,  and,  knowing 
that  she  would  soon  turn  up  a  certain  shady  lane  at  right 
angles  to  the  road  she  had  followed,  he  ran  hastily  down 
the  staircase,  crossed  the  barley  (which  now  covered  the 
field)  by  the  path  not  more  than  a  foot  wide,  which  he  had 
trodden  for  himself,  and  got  into  the  lane  at  the  other  end. 
By  slowly  walking  along  it  in  the  direction  of  the  turnpike 
road  he  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  coming. 
To  his  surprise,  he  also  had  the  additional  satisfaction  of 
perceiving  that  neither  boy  nor  dog  was  in  her  company. 
They  both  blushed  as  they  approached,  she  from  sex, 
he  from  juvenility.  One  thing  she  seemed  to  see  in  a  mo- 
ment, that  in  the  interval  of  her  absence  St.  Cleeve  had 
become  a  man;  and  as  he  greeted  her  widi  this  new  and 
maturer  light  in  his  eyes,  she  could  not  hide  her  embar- 
rassment or  meet  their  fire. 

"  I  have  just  sent  my  page  across  to  the  column  with 
your  book  on  Cometary  Nuclei,  that  you  might  not  have 
to  come  to  the  House  for  it.  I  did  not  know  I  should 
meet  you  here. " 

''  Didn't  you  wish  me  to  come  to  the  House  for  it.?" 
•'  I  did  not,  frankly.     You  know  why,  do  you  not.?" 
•Yes,  I  know.     Well,  my  longing  is  at  rest.     I  have 
met  you  again.      But  are  you  unwell,  that  you  drive  out 
in  this  chair.'"' 

"  No;  I  walked  out  this  morning,  and  am  a  little  tired." 

"I  have  been  looking  for  you  night  and  day.     Why 

do  you  turn  your  face  aside.?     You  used  not  to  be  so." 

Her  hand  rested  on  th'^  side  of  the  chair,  and  he  took  it. 


122  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

"Do  you  know  that  since  we  last  met,  I  have  been  think- 
ing of  you — daring  to  think  of  you — as  I  never  thought  of 
vou  before?  " 

"Yes,  I  know  it." 

"  How  did  you  know?  " 

"  I  saw  it  in  your  face  when  you  came  up." 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  think  of  you  so.  And 
yet,  had  I  not  learnt  to,  I  should  never  fully  have  felt  how 
gentle  and  sweet  you  are.  Only  think  of  my  loss  if  I  had 
lived  and  died  without  seeing  more  in  you  than  in  astron- 
omy !  But  I  shall  never  cease  to  do  so  now.  When  you 
talk  I  shall  love  your  understanding;  when  you  are  silent 
I  shall  love  your  face.  But  how  shall  I  know  that  you 
care  to  be  so  much  to  me?" 

Her  manner  was  disturbed  as  she  recognized  the  im- 
pending self-surrender,  which  she  knew  not  how  to  resist, 
and  was  not  altogether  at  ease  in  welcoming. 

"Oh,  Lady  Constantine, "  he  continued,  bending  over 
her,  "give  me  some  proof  more  than  mere  seeming  and 
inference,  which  are  all  I  have  at  present,  that  you  don't 
think  this  I  tell  you  of  presumption  in  me  !  I  have  been 
unable  to  do  anything  since  I  last  saw  you  for  pondering 
uncertainly  on  this.  Some  proof,  or  little  sign,  that  we 
are  one  in  heart  !  " 

A  blush  settled  on  her  face;  and  half  in  effort,  half  in 
spontaneity,  she  put  her  finger  on  her  cheek.  He  respect- 
fully, almost  devotional ly,  kissed  the  spot. 

"Does  that  suffice?"  she  asked,  scarcely  giving  her 
words  voice. 

"Yes;   I  am  convinced. " 

"Then  that  must  be  the  end.     Let  me  drive  on;  the 


TM^O    ON  A    TOWER.  123 

boy  will  be  back  again  soon."     She  spoke  hastily,  and 
looked  askance,  to  hide  the  heat  of  her  cheek. 

"No,  the  tower  door  is  open,  and  he  will  go  to  the  top, 
and  waste  his  time  in  looking  through  the  telescope. " 

"Then  you  should  rush  back,  for  he  will  do  some 
damage. " 

"No;  he  may  do  what  he  likes,  tinker  and  spoil  the 
instrument,  destroy  my  papers, — anything,  so  that  he  will 
stay  there  and  leave  us  alone." 

She  flushed  with  a  species  of  pained  pleasure.  "You 
never  used  to  feel  like  that ! "  she  said,  and  there  was  keen 
self-reproach  in  her  voice.  "  You  were  once  so  devoted 
to  your  science  that  the  thought  of  an  intruder  into  your 
temple  would  have  driven  you  wild.  Now  you  don't  care; 
and  who  is  to  blame }    Ah,  not  you,  not  you  !  " 

The  animal  ambled  on  with  her,  and  he,  leaning  on  the 
side  of  the  little  vehicle,  kept  her  company.  "Well,  don't 
let  us  think  of  that,"  he  said.  "  I  offer  myself  and  all  my 
energies,  frankly  and  entirely,  to  you,  my  dear,  dear  lady, 
whose  I  shall  be  always.  But  my  words  in  telling  you  this 
will  only  injure  my  meaning,  instead  of  emphasize  it.  In 
expressing,  even  to  myself,  my  thoughts  of  you,  I  find 
that  I  fall  into  phrases  which,  as  a  critic,  I  should  hitherto 
have  heartily  despised  for  their  commonness.  What's  the 
use  of  saying,  for  instance,  as  I  have  just  said,  that  I  give 
myself  entirely  to  you,  and  shall  be  yours  always, — that 
you  have  my  devotion,  my  highest  homage  .•*  Those  words 
have  been  used  so  frequently  in  a  flippant  manner  that 
honest  use  of  them  is  not  distinguishable  from  the  unreal." 
He  turned  to  her,  and  added,  smiling,  "  Your  eyes  are  to 
be  mv  stars  for  the  future." 


124  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"Yes,  I  know  it, — I  know  it,  and  all  you  would  say  ! 
I  dreaded  even  while  I  hoped  for  this,  my  dear  young 
friend,"  she  replied,  her  eyes  being  full  of  tears.  "I  am 
injuring  you;  who  knows  that  I  am  not  ruining  your  fu- 
ture,— I  who  ought  to  know  better?  Nothing  can  come 
of  this, — nothing  must, — and  I  am  only  wasting  your 
time.  Why  have  I  drawn  you  off  from  a  grand  celestial 
study  to  study  poor  lonely  me .?  Say  you  will  never  de- 
spise me,  when  you  get  older,  for  this  episode  in  our  lives. 
But  you  will, — I  know  you  will.  All  men  do,  when  they 
have  been  attracted  in  their  unsuspecting  youth  as  I  have 
attracted  you.     I  ought  to  have  kept  my  resolve. " 

' '  What  was  that .?  " 

"To  bear  anything  rather  than  draw  you  from  your 
high  purpose;  to  be  like  the  noble  citizen  of  old  times, 
who,  attending  a  sacrifice,  let  himself  be  burnt  to  the-bone 
by  a  coal  that  jumped  into  his  sleeve  rather  than  disturb 
the  sacred  ceremony. " 

"  But  can  I  not  study  and  love  both? " 

"  I  hope  so, — I  earnestly  hope  so.  But  you'll  be  the 
first  if  you  do,  and  I  am  the  responsible  one  if  you 
do  not." 

"You  speak  as  if  I  were  quite  a  child,  and  you  im- 
mensely older.  Why,  how  old  do  you  think  I  am  ?  I 
am  twenty." 

"You  seem  younger.  Well,  that's  so  much  the  better. 
Twenty  sounds  strong  and  fiim.  How  old  do  you  think 
I  am  ? " 

"I  have  never  thought  of  considering."  He  innocently 
turned  to  scrutinize  her  face.  She  winced  a  little.  But 
the  instinct  was  premature.     Time  had  taken   no  liber- 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  1 25 

ties  with  her  features  as  yet;  nor  had  trouble  very  roughly 
handled  her,  to  outward  view. 

"I  will  tell  you,"  she  replied,  speaking  almost  with 
physical  pain,  yet  as  if  determination  should  carry  her 
through.  "I  am  six  and  twenty — nearly — I  mean  a 
little  more,  a  few  months  more.  Am  I  not  a  fearful 
deal  older  than  you  } " 

"At  first  it  seems  a  great  deal,"  he  answered  mus- 
ing. "But  it  doesn't  seem  much  when  one  gets  used 
to  it." 

"Nonsense!"  she  exclaimed.      "It  is  a  good  deal." 

"Very  well,  then,  sweetest  Lady  Constantine,  let  it 
be,"  he  said  gently. 

"You  should   not  let   it   be!     A  polite   man   would 

have  flatly  contradicted  me Oh,  I  am  ashamed 

of  this  !  "  she  added,  a  moment  after,  with  a  subdued, 
sad  look  upon  the  ground.  "I  am  speaking  by  the 
card  of  the  outer  world,  which  I  have  left  behind  utterly: 
no  such  lip-service  is  known  in  your  sphere.  I  care 
nothing  for  those  things,  really;  but  that  which  is  called 
the  Eve  in  us  will  out  sometimes.  Well,  we  will  forget 
that  now,  as  we  must,  at  no  very  distant  date,  forget  all 
the  rest  of  this." 

He  walked  beside  her  thoughtfully  a  while,  with  his 
eyes  also  bent  on  the  road.  "Why  must  we  forget  it 
all .''"  he  inquired. 

"It  is  only  an  interlude." 

"An  interlude  I  It  is  no  interlude  to  me.  Oh,  how 
can  you  talk  so  lightly  of  this.  Lady  Constantine.''  And 
yet,  if  I  were  to  go  away  from  here,  1  might,  perhaps 
soon  reduce  it  to  an  interlude  I     Yes,"  he  resumed  im- 


126  TIFO    OM  A    TOWER. 

pulsively,    "I   will  go  away.     Love   dies,   and   it  is  just 
as  well  to  strangle  it  in  its  birth;  it  can  only  die  once  ! 

rii  go." 

"No,  no!"  she  said,  looking  up  apprehensively. 
"I  misled  you.  It  is  no  interlude  to  me, — it  is  tragical. 
I  only  meant  that  from  a  worldly  point  of  view  it  is 
an  interlude,  which  we  should  try  to  forget.  But  the 
world  is  not  all.     You  will  not  go  away } " 

But  he  continued,  drearily,  "Yes,  yes,  I  see  it  all:  you 
have  enlightened  me.  It  will  be  hurting  your  prospects 
even  more  than  mine,  if  I  stay.  Now  Sir  Blount  is  dead, 
you  are  free  again, — may  marry  where  you  will,  but  for 
this  fancy  of  ours.  I'll  leave  Welland,  before  harm  comes 
of  my  staying." 

"Don't  decide  to  do  a  thing  so  rash!"  she  begged, 
seizing  his  hand,  and  looking  miserable  at  the  effect  of 
her  words.  "I  shall  have  nobody  left  in  the  world  to 
care  for !  And  now  I  have  given  you  the  great  tele- 
scope, and  lent  you  the  column,  it  would  be  ungrateful 
to  go  away !  I  was  wrong;  believe  me  that  I  did  not 
mean  that  it  was  a  mere  interlude  to  7ne.  Oh,  if  you 
only  knew  how  very,  verj'  far  it  is  from  that !  It  is  my 
doubt  of  the  result  to  you  that  makes  me  speak  so 
slightingly." 

They  were  now  approaching  cross-roads,  and,  casually 
looking  up,  they  beheld  thirty  or  forty  yards  beyond 
the  crossing,  Mr.  Torkingham,  who  was  leaning  over  a 
gate,  his  back  being  towards  them.  As  yet  he  had  not 
recognized  their  approach. 

The  master  passion  had  already  supplanted  St.  Cleeve's 
natural  ingenuousness  by  subtlety. 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  1 27 

"Would  it  be  well  for  us  to  meet  Mr.  Torkingham 
just  now  ?  "  he  began. 

"Certainly  not,"  she  said  hastily,  and  pulling  the 
rein  she  instantly  drove  down  the  right-hand  road.  "I 
cannot  meet  anybody,"  she  murmured.  "Would  it  not 
be  better  that  you  leave  me  now .? — not  for  my  pleasure, 
but  that  there  may  arise  no  distressing  tales  about  us 
before  we  know — how  to  act  in  this — this  " — (she  smiled 
faintly)  "  heart-aching  extremity." 

They  were  passing  under  a  huge  oak-tree,  whose  limbs, 
irregular  with  shoulders,  knuckles,  and  elbows,  stretched 
horizontally  over  the  lane  in  a  manner  recalling  Absalom's 
death.  A  slight  rustling  was  perceptible  amid  the  leafage 
as  they  drew  out  from  beneath  it,  and,  turning  up  his 
eyes,  Swithin  saw  that  very  buttoned  page,  whose  advent 
they  had  dreaded,  looking  down  with  interest  at  them 
from  a  perch  not  much  higher  than  a  yard  above  their 
heads.  He  had  a  bunch  of  oak  apples  in  his  hand, 
plainly  the  object  of  his  climb,  and  was  furtively  watching 
Lady  Constantine  with  the  hope  that  she  might  not  see 
him.  But  that  she  had  already  done,  though  she  did 
not  reveal  it,  and,  feaiing  that  the  latter  words  of  their 
conversation  had  been  overheard,  they  spoke  not  until 
they  had  passed  the  next  turning. 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  his.  "This  must  not 
go  on,"  she  said  imploringly.  "  My  anxiety  as  to  what 
may  be  said  of  such  methods  of  meeting  makes  me  too 
unhappy.  See  what  has  happened ! "  She  could  not 
help  smiling.  "Out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire! 
After  meanly  turning  to  avoid  the  parson,  we  have  rushed 
into  a  worse  publicity.      It  is  too  humiliating  to  have  to 


128  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

avoid  people,  and  lowers  both  you  and  ine.  The  only 
remedy  is  not  to  meet." 

"Very  well,"  said  Swithin,  with  a  sigh,  '"So  shall  it 
be." 

And  with  smiles  that  might  as  well  have  been  tears 
they  parted  there  and   then. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

npHE  summer  passed  away,  and  autumn,  witli  its  infi- 
-*-  nite  succession  of  tints,  came  creeping  on.  Darker 
grew  the  evenings,  teariuller  the  moonlights,  and  heavier 
the  dews.  Meanwhile  the  comet  had  waxed  to  its  largest 
dimensions, — so  large  that  not  only  the  nucleus  but  a 
portion  of  the  tail  had  been  visible  in  broad  day.  It  was 
now  on  the  wane,  though  every  night  the  equatorial  still 
afforded  an  opportunity  of  observing  the  singular  object, 
which  would  soon  disappear  altogether  from  the  heavens 
for  perhaps  thousands  of  years. 

But  the  astronomer  of  the  Rings-Hill  Speer  was  no 
longer  a  match  for  his  celestial  materials.  Scientifically 
he  had  become  but  a  dim  vapor  of  himself;  the  lover 
had  come  into  him  like  an  armed  man,  and  cast  out  the 
student,  and  his  intellectual  situation  was  growing  a  life- 
and-death  matter. 

The  resolve  of  the  pair  had  been  so  far  kept:  they  had 
not  seen  each  other  in  private  for  three  months.  But 
on  one  day  in  October  he  ventured  to  write  a  note 
to  her:  — 


130  TWO    ON  A    TOV/ER. 

I  can  do  nothing.  I  have  ceased  to  study,  ceased  to  ODserve. 
The  equatorial  is  useless  to  me.  This  affection  I  have  for  you  ab- 
sorbs my  life,  and  outweighs  my  intentions.  The  power  to  labor  in 
this  grandest  of  fields  has  left  me.  I  struggle  against  the  weakness 
till  I  think  of  the  cause,  and  then  I  bless  her.  But  the  very  desper- 
ation of  my  circumstances  has  suggested  a  remedy;  and  this  I  would 
inform  you  of  at  once. 

Can  you  come  to  me,  since  I  must  not  come  to  you  ?  1  will 
wait  to-morrow  night  at  the  edge  of  the  plantation  by  which  you 
would  enter  to  the  column.  I  will  not  detain  you;  my  plan  can  be 
told  in  ten  words. 

I'he  night  after  posting  this  missive  to  her  he  waited 
at  the  spot  mentioned.  It  was  a  melancholy  evening 
for  coming  abroad.  A  blusterous  wind  had  risen  dur- 
ing the  day,  and  still  continued  to  increase.  Yet  he 
stood  watchful  in  the  darkness,  and  was  ultimately  re- 
warded by  discerning  a  shady  muffled  shape  that  embod- 
ied itself  from  the  field,  accompanied  by  the  scratching  of 
silk  over  stubble.  There  was  no  longer  any  disguise  as 
to  the  nature  of  their  meeting.  It  was  a  lovers'  assigna- 
tion, pure  and  simple;  and  boldly  realizing  it  as  such  he 
clasped  her  in  his  arms. 

■ '  I  cannot  bear  this  any  longer !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Three  months  since  I  saw  you  alone  !  Only  a  glimpse 
of  you  in  church,  or  a  bow  from  the  distance,  in  all  that 
time  !  What  a  fearful  struggle  this  keeping  apart  has 
been  !  " 

"Yet  I  would  have  had  strength  to  persist,  since  it 
seemed  best,"  she  murmured,  when  she  could  speak, 
''had  not  your  words  on  your  condition  so  alarmed  and 
saddened  me.  This  inability  of  yours  to  work,  or  study, 
or  observe, — it  is  terrible!     So  terrible  a  sting  is  it  to  my 


TfVO    ON  A     TOWER.  131 

conscience  that  your  words  about  a  remedy  have  brought 
me  instantly.'' 

"Yet  I  don't  altogether  mind  it,  since  it  is  you,  my 
dear  lady,  who  have  displaceil  the  work;  and  yet  the  loss 
o'"  time  nearly  distracts  me,  when  I  have  neither  the  pow- 
er to  work  nor  the  delight  of  }()ur  company." 

"But  your  remedy!  Oh,  I  cannot  help  guessing  it! 
Yes,  you  are  going  away  !  " 

"Let  us  ascend  the  column;  we  can  speak  more  at 
ease  there.  Then  I  will  explain  all.  I  would  not  ask 
you   to  climb  so  high,  but  the  hut  is  not  yet  furnished.'" 

He  entered  the  cabin  at  the  foot,  and,  having  lighted  a 
small  lantern,  conducted  her  up  the  hollow  stair-case  to 
the  top,  where  he  closed  the  slides  of  the  dome  to  keep 
out  the  wind,  and  placed  the  observing  chair  for  her. 

"I  can  stay  only  five  minutes,"'  she  said,  without  sit- 
ting down.  "You  said  it  was  important  that  you  should 
see  me,  and  I  have  come.  I  assure  you  it  is  at  a  great 
risk.  If  I  am  seen  here  at  this  time  I  am  ruined  forever. 
But  what  would  1  not  do  for  you  1  Oh,  Swithin,  your 
remedy — is  it  to  go  away .''  There  is  no  other;  and  yet 
I  dread  that  like  death  !  " 

"  I  can  tell  vou  in  a  moment,  but  I  must  begin  at  the 
beginning.  All  this  rumous  idleness  and  distraction  is 
caused  by  the  misery  of  our  not  being  able  to  meet  with 
freedom.  The  fear  that  something  may  snatch  you  from 
me  keeps  mc  in  a  state  of  perpetual  apprehension." 

"It  is  too  true  also  of  me.  I  dread  that  some  acci- 
dent may  happen,  and  waste  my  days  in  meeting  the 
trouble  half-way." 

"So  our  lives  go  on,  and  our  labors  stand  still.     Now 


132  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

for  the  remedy.      Dear  Lady  Coiistantine,    allow  nie   to 
marry  you. " 

She  started,  and  the  wind  without  shoolc  the  building, 
sending:  up  a  yet  intenser  moan  from  the  firs. 

"1  mean,  marry  you  (juite  privately.  Let  it  make  no 
difference  whatever  to  our  outward  lives  for  years,  for  I 
know  that  in  m\-  present  position  you  could  not  possibly 
acknowledge  me  as  husband  publicly.  But  by  marry- 
ing at  once  we  secure  the  certainty  that  we  cannot  be  di- 
vided by  accident,  coaxing,  or  artifice;  and,  at  ease  on 
that  point,  I  shall  embrace  my  studies  with  the  old  vigor, 
and  you  yours." 

Lady  Constantine  was  so  agitated  at  the  unexpected 
boldness  of  such  a  proposal  from  one  hitherto  so  boyish 
and  deferential  that  she  sank  into  the  observing-chair,  her 
intention  to  remain  for  only  a  lew  minutes  being  quite 
forgotten. 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  "No,  no,— 1 
dare  not  !  "  she  whispered. 

"But  is  there  a  single  thing  else  left  to  do.''"  he 
pleaded,  kneeling  down  beside  her,  less  in  supplication 
than  in  abandonment.      "  What  else  can  we  do  .''  " 

"  Wait  till  you  are  famous." 

"But  I  cannot  be  famous  unless  I  strive,  and  this  dis- 
tracting condition  prevents  all  striving  !  " 

"Could  you  not  strive  on  if  I — give  you  a  promise,  a 
solemn  promise,  to  be  yours  when  your  name  is  fairly 
well  known }  " 

St.  Cleeve  breathed  heavily.  "It  will  be  a  long,  weary 
time,"  he  said.  "And  even  with  your  promise  I  shall 
work  but  halfh(  artedly.     Every  hour  of  study  will  be  in- 


riro  ox  A   TOWER.  133 

terrupted  with  'Suppose  this  or  this  happens; '  'Suppose 
somebody  persuades  her  to  break  hei  promise; '  worse 
still,  'Suppose  some  rival  maligns  me,  and  so  seduces 
her  away.'  No,  Lady  Constantine,  dearest,  best,  as  you 
are,  that  element  of  distraction  would  still  remain,  and 
where  that  is,  no  sustained  energy  is  possible.  Many 
erroneous  things  have  been  written  and  said  by  the  sages, 
but  never  did  llicy  tloat  a  greater  fallacy  than  that  an  ar- 
dent love  serves  as  a  stimulus  to  win  the  loved  one  by 
patient  toil." 

"  I  cannot  argue  with  you,"  she  said  weakly. 

"My  only  possible  other  chance  would  lie  in  going 
away,"  he  resumed,  after  a  moments  reflection,  with  his 
eves  on  the  lantern  flame,  which  waved  and  smoked  in 
the  currents  of  air  that  leaked  into  the  dome  from  the 
fierce  wind-stream  without.  "  If  I  might — take  away  the 
equatorial,  supposing  it  possible  that  I  could  find  some 
suitable  i)lace  for  observing  in  the  southern  hemisphere, 
— say,  at  the  Cape, — I  might  be  able  to  apply  myself  to 
serious  work  again,  after  the  lapse  of  a  little  time.  The 
southern  constellations  offer  a  less  exhausted  field  for  in- 
vestigation.     I  wonder  if  I  might  !  " 

"  You  mean,"  she  answered,  uneasily,  "that  you  might 
apjilv  vourself  to  work  when  your  recollection  of  me  be- 
■Mu  to  faiie,  and  rav  life  to  become  a  matter  of  indilTerence 
to  you.  .  .  .  Yes,  go!  No, — I  cannot  bear  it!  The  rem- 
edy is  worse  than  the  disease.      I  cannot  let  }ou  go  away  !  " 

"Then  how  can  you  refuse  the  only  condition  on  which 
1  can  stav,  without  ruin  to  my  purpose  and  scandal  to 
your  name.^  Dearest,  agree  to  my  proposal,  as  you  love 
both  me  anvi  wmrself!" 


134  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

He  waited,  while  the  fir-trees  rubbed  and  prodded  the 
base  of  the  tower,  and  the  wind  roared  around  and  shook 
it;  but  she  could  not  find  words  to  reply. 

"Would  to  God,"  he  burst  out,  "that  I  might  perish 
here,  like  Winstanley  in  his  lighthouse  1  Then  the  diffi- 
culty would  be  solved  for  you." 

"You  are  so  wrong,  so  very  wrong,  in  saying  so  !  "  she 
exclaimed  passionatelv.  "You  may  doubt  my  wisdom, 
pity  my  short-sightedness;  but  there  is  one  thing  you  do 
know, — that  I  love  you  dearly  !  " 

"You  do, — I  know  it!"  he  said,  softened  in  a  mo- 
ment. "  But  it  seems  such  a  simple  remedy  for  the  diffi- 
culty that  I  cannot  see  how  you  can  mind  adopting  it,  if 
you  care  so  much  for  me  as  I  do  for  you." 

"Should  we  live  .  .  .  just  as  we  are,  exactly,  .  .  . 
supposing  I  agreed  .''  "  she  faintly  inquired. 

' '  Yes,  that  is  m.y  idea. " 

"Quite  privately,  you  say.  How  could — the  marriage 
be  quite  private .?  " 

"  I  would  go  away  to  London  and  get  a  license.  Then 
you  could  come  to  me,  and  return  again  immediately 
after  the  ceremony.  I  could  return  at  leisure,  and  not  a 
soul  in  the  world  would  know  what  had  taken  place. 
Think,  dearest,  with  what  a  free  conscience  you  could 
then  assist  me  in  my  efforts  to  plumb  these  deeps  above 
us  !  Any  feeling  that  you  may  now  have  against  clandes- 
tine meetings  as  such  would  then  be  removed,  and  our 
hearts  would  be  at  rest." 

There  was  a  certain  scientific  practicability  even  in  his 
love-making,  and  it  here  came  out  excellently.  But  she 
sat  on  with  ijuspended  breath,   her  heart  wildly  beating, 


TPVO    ON  A     TOWER.  135 

while  he  waited  in  upcn-muuthed  expcclation.  Each  was 
swayed  by  the  emotion  within  them,  much  as  the  candle 
flame  was  swayed  by  the  tempest  without.  It  was  the 
most  critical  evening  of  their  lives.  The  pale  ra}S  of  the 
Httle  lantern  fell  upon  her  emotional  face,  snugly  and 
neatly  bound  in  by  her  black  bonnet,  but  not  a  beam 
leaked  out  to  suggest  to  any  watchful  eye  that  human 
life  at  its  highest  excitement  might  be  beating  within  that 
dark  and  isolated  tower;  for  the  dome  had  no  windows, 
and  every  shutter  that  afforded  an  opening  for  the  teles- 
cope was  hermetically  closed.  Predilections  and  misgiv- 
ings so  equally  strove  within  her  still  youthful  breast  that 
she  could  not  utter  a  word;  her  intention  wheeled  this 
way  and  that  like  the  balance  of  a  watch.  His  unex- 
pected proposition  had  brought  about  the  smartest  en- 
counter of  inclination  with  prudence,  of  impulse  with  re- 
serve, that  she  had  ever  known. 

Of  all  the  reasons  that  she  had  expected  him  to  give  for 
his  urgent  request  to  see  her  this  evening,  an  offer  of  mar- 
riage was  probably  the  last.  Whether  or  not  she  had  ever 
amused  herself  with  hypothetical  fancies  on  such  a  subject, 
— and  it  was  only  natural  that  she  should  vaguely  have 
done  so, — the  courage  in  her  protege  coolly  to  advance 
it,  without  a  hint  from  herself  that  such  a  proposal  would 
be  tolerated,  showed  her  that  there  was  more  in  his  char- 
acter than  she  had  reckoned  on;  and  the  discovery  al- 
most frightened  her.  The  humor,  attitude,  and  tenor 
of  her  attachment  had  been  of  quite  an  unpremeditated 
quality,  unsuggestive  of  any  such  audacious  solution  to 
their  distresses  as  this. 

"  1  repeat  my  question,  dearest,"  he  said  after  her  long 


136  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

pause.  "Shall  it  be  done?  Or  shall  I  exile  myself,  anl 
study  as  best  I  can,  in  some  distant  country,  out  of  sight 
and  sound  ?  " 

"Are  those  the  only  alternatives?  Yes,  yes,  I  suppose 
they  are  ?  '  She  waited  yet  another  moment,  bent  over 
his  kneeling  figu'e,  and  kissed  his  forehead.  "Yes;  it 
siiall  be  done,"  she  whispered.      "  I  will  marry  you." 

"  Mv  anp^el,  I  am  content !  " 

"I  am  weaker  than  you,— far  the  weaker,"  she  went 
on,  her  tears  falling.  "Rather  that  lose  you  out  of  my 
sight  I  will  marry  without  stipulation  or  condition.  But 
— I  put  it  to  your  kindness — grant  me  one  little  request." 

He  instantly  assented. 

"It  is  that,  in  consideration  of  my  peculiar  position 
in  this  county, — oh,  you  can't  understand  it! — you  will 
not  jjut  an  end  to  the  absolute  secrecy  of  our  relationship 
without  my  full  assent.  Also,  that  you  will  never  come 
to  Welland  House  without  first  discussing  with  me  the 
advisability  of  the  visit,  accepting  my  opinion  on  the 
point.  There,  see  how  a  timid  woman  tries  to  fence 
herself  in  ! " 

"My  dear  lad)-love,  neither  of  those  two  high-handed 
f'ourses  should  I  have  taken,  even  had  you  not  stipulated 
a,ain.st  them.  The  very  essence  of  our  marriage  plan  is 
tiiat  those  two  conditions  are  kept.  I  see  as  well  as  you 
do,  even  more  than  you,  how  important  it  is  that  for  the 
present — more,  for  a  long  time  hence — I  should  still  be 
but  the  curate's  lonely  son,  unattached  to  anybody  or  any- 
thing, with  no  object  of  interest  but  his  science;  and  you 
the  recluse  lady  of  the  manor,  to  whom  he  is  only  an 
acquaintance." 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  1 37 

*'See  what  deceits  love  sows  in  honest  minds  !  " 

"  It  would  be  a  humiliation  to  you  at  present  that  I 
could  not  bear  if  a  marriage  between  us  were  made  public; 
an  inconvenience  wiilinui  any  compensating  advantage."' 

"I  am  so  glad  you  assume  it  without  my  setting  it 
before  you  !  Now  I  know  vou  are  not  onl\-  good  and 
true,  but  politic  and  trustworthy." 

"Well,  then,  here  is  our  covenant.  My  lady  swears 
to  marry  me;  I,  in  return  for  such  great  courtesy,  swear 
never  to  compromise  her  by  intruding  at  Welland  House, 
and  to  keep  the  marriage  concealed  till  I  have  won  a  po- 
sition worthy  of  her." 

"Or  till  I  request  it  to  be  made  known,"  she  added, 
possibly  foreseeing  a  contingency  which  had  not  occurred 
to  him. 

"  Or  till  you  request  it,"  he  repeated. 

"It  is  agreed,"  mtirmured  Lady  Constantino. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A  FTER  this  there  only  remained  to  be  settled  between 
'^^*-  them  the  practical  details  of  the  project.  These  were 
that  he  should  leave  home  in  a  couple  of  days,  and  take 
lodgings  either  in  the  city  of  Melchester  or  in  a  convenient 
suburb  c)f  London,  till  a  sufficient  time  should  have  elapsed 
to  satisfy  legal  requirements;  that  on  a  fine  morning  at  the 
end  of  this  time  she  should  hie  away  to  the  same  place, 
and  be  met  at  the  station  by  St.  Cleeve,  armed  with  the 
marriage  license;  whence  they  should  at  once  proceed  to 
the  church  fixed  upon  for  the  ceremony,  returning  home 
independently  in  the  course  of  the  next  two  or  three  days. 
While  these  tactics  were  under  discussion,  the  two  and 
thirty  winds  of  heaven  continued,  as  before,  to  beat  about 
the  tower,  though  their  onsets  appeared  to  be  somewhat 
lessening  in  force.  Himself  now  calmed  and  .satisfied, 
Swithin,  as  is  the  wont  of  humanity,  took  serener  views 
of  Nature's  crushing  mechanics  without,  and  said,  "The 
wind  seems  indispo.sed  to  put  the  tragic  period  to  our 
hopes  and  fears  that  I  spoke  of  in  my  momentary  despair." 
"  Tlie  disposition  of  the  wind  is  as  vicious  as  ever,"  she 
answered,  looking  into  his  fage  m{h  paiising  thoughts  or, 


TWO    ON  A     TOWER.  1 39 

perhaps,  other  subjects  than  that  discussed.  "  It  is  your 
mood  of  viewing  it  that  has  changed.  '  There  is  nothing 
either  good  or  bad  but  thinking  makes  it  so.'" 

And,  as  if  flatly  to  stultify  Swithin's  a.ssumption,  a  cir- 
cular hurricane,  exceeding  in  violence  any  that  had  pre- 
ceded it,  seized  hold  upon  Rings-Hill  Speer  at  that  mo- 
ment with  the  determination  of  a  conscious  agent.  The 
first  sensation  of  a  resulting  catastrophe  was  conveyed  to 
their  intelligence  by  the  flapping  of  the  candle-flame  against 
the  lantern-glass;  then  the  wind,  which  hitherto  they  had 
heard  rather  than  felt,  rubbed  by  them  like  a  passing  fugi- 
tive. Swithin  beheld  around  and  above  him,  in  place  of 
the  concavity  of  the  dome,  the  open  heaven,  with  its  racing 
clouds,  remote  horizon,  and  intermittent  gleam  of  stars. 
The  dome  that  had  covered  the  tower  had  been  whirled 
off  bodily,  and  they  heard  it  descend,  crashing,  upon  the 
trees. 

Finding  himself  untouched,  Swithin  stretched  out  his 
arms  towards  Lady  Constantine,  whose  apparel  had  been 
seized  by  the  spinning  air,  nearly  lifting  her  off  her  legs. 
She,  too,  was  as  yet  unharmed.  Each  held  the  other  for 
a  moment,  when,  finding  that  nothing  further  happened, 
they  took  shelter  in  the  staircase. 

"  Dearest,  what  an  escape  !  "  he  said,  still  holding  her. 

"  What  is  the  accident }  "  she  asked.  "  Has  the  whole 
top  really  gone  .'  " 

"The  dome  has  been  blown  oft" the  roof." 

As  soon  as  it  was  practicable  he  relit  the  lantern,  which 
had  been  extinguished,  and  they  emerged  again  u})ou  the 
leads,  where  the  extent  of  the  disaster  became  at  once  ap- 
parent.     Saving  tlij  absence  of  the  inclosing  hemisphere, 


140  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

all  remained  the  same.  The  dome,  being  constructed  of 
wood,  was  light  by  comparison  with  the  rest  of  the  struct- 
ure, and  the  wheels  which  allowed  it  horizontal,  or,  as 
Swithin  expressed  it,  azimuth  motion  deprived  it  of  a  firm 
hold  upon  the  walls;  so  that  it  had  been  lifted  off  them  like 
a  cover  from  a  pot.  The  equatorial  stood  in  the  midst,  as 
it  had  stood  before. 

Having  executed  its  grotesque  purpose,  the  wind  sank 
to  comparative  mildness.  Swithin  took  advantage  of  this 
lull  by  covering  up  the  instruments  with  cloths,  after  which 
the  betrothed  ones  prepared  to  go  downstairs.  But  the 
events  of  the  night  had  not  yet  fully  disclosed  themselves. 
At  this  moment  there  was  a  sound  of  footsteps,  and  a  knock- 
ing at  the  door  below. 

"  It  can't  be  for  me  !  "  said  Lady  Constantine.  "I  re- 
tired  to  my  room  before  leaving  the  house,  and  told  them 
on  no  account  to  disturb  me." 

She  remained  at  the  top,  while  Swithin  went  down  the 
spiral.      In  the  gloom  he  beheld  Hannah. 

"  Oh,  ^Master  Swithin,  can  yc  come  home  !  The  wind 
have  blowed  down  the  chimley  that  don't  smoke,  and  the 
gable  with  it;  and  the  old  ancient  house,-  that  have  been 
in  your  family  so  long  as  the  memory  of  man,  is  bare  to 
the  wide  world.  It  is  a  mercy  that  your  grammer  were 
not  killed,  sitting  by  the  hearth,  poor  old  soul,  and  not 
long  to  be  with  us, — for  'a  's  getting  feeble  on  her  pins, 
Mr.  Swithin,  as  folks  do.  As  I  say,  a  was  all  but  mur- 
dered by  the  open  elements,  and  doing  no  more  harm  than 
the  babe  in  the  wood,  nor  speaking  one  harmful  word; 
and  the  fire  and  smoke  were  blowed  all  across  the  room 
like  a  chapter  in  Revelation;  and  your  poor  reverend  fa- 


TPVO    ON  A    TOWER.  141 

ther's  features  bescorched  to  flakes,  looking  like  the  vilest 
ruffian,  and  the  gilt  frame  spoiled.  Every  flitch,  every  eye- 
piece, and  every  chop  is  buried  under  the  walling;  and  1 
fed  them  pigs  with  my  own  hands.  Master  Swithin,  little 
thinking  they  would  come  to  this  unnatural  end.  Do  ye 
collect  yourself,  Mr.  Swithin,  and  come  at  once  !" 

"I  will, — I  will.  I'll  follow  you  in  a  moment.  Do  you 
hasten  back  again  and  assist." 

When  Hannah  had  departed,  the  young  man  ran  up  to 
Lady  Constantine,  to  whom  he  explained  the  accident. 
After  sympathizing  with  old  Mrs.  Martin,  Lady  Constan- 
tine said,  "  I  thought  something  would  occur  to  mar  our 
scheme  !  " 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  of  that  yet." 

On  a  short  consideration  with  him,  she  agreed  to  wait 
at  the  top  of  the  tower  till  he  could  come  back  and  inform 
her  if  the  accident  were  really  so  serious  as  to  interfere  with 
his  plan  for  departure.  He  then  left  her,  and  there  she 
sat  in  the  dark,  alone,  looking  over  the  parapet,  and  strain- 
ing her  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  homestead. 

At  first  all  was  obscurity;  but  when  he  had  been  gone 
about  ten  minutes  lights  began  to  move  to  and  fro  in  the 
hollow  where  the  house  stood,  and  shouts  occasionally 
mingled  with  the  wind,  which  retained  some  violence  yet, 
playing  over  the  trees  beneath  her  as  on  the  pipes  of  an 
organ.  Bj  not  a  bough  of  them  was  visible,  a  cloak  of 
blackness  covering  everything  netherward;  while  overhead 
the  broad  windy  sky  looked  down  with  a  strange,  disguised 
face,  the  three  or  four  stars  that  alone  were  visible  being 
so  dissociated  by  clouds  that  she  knew  not  which  they  were. 

Under  any  other  circumstances  Lady  Constantine  might 


142  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

have  felt  a  nameless  fear  in  thus  sitting  aloft  on  a  lonelj 
column,  with  a  forest  groaning  under  her  feet,  and  pa- 
laeolithic dead  men  feeding  its  roots;  but  the  recent  pas- 
sionate decision  stirred  her  pulses  to  an  intensity  beside 
which  the  ordinary  tremors  of  feminine  existence  asserted 
themselves  in  vain.  The  apocalyptic  eftect  of  the  scene 
surrounding  her  was,  indeed,  not  inharmonious,  and 
aftbrded  an  appropriate  background  to  her  intentions. 

After  what  seemed  to  her  an  interminable  space  of  time, 
quick  steps  in  the  staircase  became  audible  above  the  roar 
of  the  firs,  and  in  a  few  instants  St.  Cleeve  again  stood 
beside  her.  The  case  of  the  homestead  was  serious. 
Hannah's  account  had  not  been  exaggerated  in  substance: 
the  gable  end  of  the  house  was  open  to  the  garden;  the 
joists,  left  without  support,  had  dropped,  and  with  them 
the  upper  floor.  By  the  help  of  some  laborers,  who 
lived  near,  and  Lady  Constantine's  man  Anthony,  who 
was  passing  at  the  time,  the  homestead  had  been  propped 
up,  and  protected  for  the  night  by  some  rick  cloths;  but 
Swithin  felt  that  it  would  be  selfish  in  the  highest  degree 
to  leave  two  lonely  old  women  to  themselves  at  this 
juncture.  "In  short,"  he  concluded  despondently,  "I 
cannot  go  to  stay  in  Melchester  or  London  just  now; 
perhaps  not  for  another  fortnight !  " 

' '  Never  mind, "  she  said  cheeringly.  ' '  A  fortnight  hence 
will  do  as  well." 

"And  I  have  these  for  you,"  he  continued.  "Youi 
man  Green  was  passing  my  grandmother's,  on  his  way 
back  from  Warborne,  where  he  had  been,  he  says,  for 
any  letters  that  had  come  for  you  by  the  evening  post. 
As  he  staid  to  assist  the  other  men,  I  told  him  I  would 


riVO    OJV  A    TOWER.  143 

go  on  to  your  house  with   the  letters  he  had  brought. 
Of  course  I  did  not  tell  him  I  should  see  you  here." 

"Thank  you.  Of  course  not.  Now  I'll  return  at 
once. " 

In  descending  the  column  her  eye  fell  upon  the  super- 
scription of  one  of  the  letters,  and  she  opened  and  glanced 
over  it  by  the  lantern  light.  She  seemed  starded,  and, 
musing,  said,  "The  postponement  of  our — intention  must 
be,  I  fear,  for- a  long  time.  I  find  that  after  the  end  of 
this  month  I  cannot  leave  home  safely,  even  for  a  day." 
Perceiving  that  he  was  about  to  ask  why,  she  added,  "I 
will  not  trouble  you  with  the  reason  now;  it  would  only 
harass  you.  It  is  only  a  family  business,  and  cannot  be 
helped." 

"Then  we  cannot  be  married  till — God  knows  when  !  " 
said  Swithin  blankly.  "I  cannot  leave  home  till  after  the 
next  week  or  two;  you  cannot  leave  home  unless  within 
that  time.     So  what  are  we  to  do.'" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"My  dear,  dear  one,  don't  let  us  be  beaten  like  this! 
Don't  let  a  well-considered  plan  be  overthrown  by  a  mere 
accident !  Here's  a  remedy.  Do  you  go  and  stay  the 
requisite  time  in  the  parish  we  are  to  be  married  in,  in- 
stead of  me.  When  my  grandmother  is  again  well  housed, 
I  can  come  to  you,  instead  of  you  to  me,  as  we  first  said. 
Then  it  can  be  done  within  the  time." 

Reluctantly,  shyly,  and  yet  with  a  certain  gladness  of 
heart,  she  gave  way  to  his  proposal  that  they  should 
change  places  in  the  programme.  There  was  much  that 
she  did  not  like  in  it,  she  said.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if 
she  were  taking  the  initiative  by  going  and  attending  to 


144  T'f^O    ON  A    TOWER. 

the  preliminaries.      It  was  the  man's  part  to  do  that,  in 
her  opinion,  and  was  usually  undertaken  by  him. 

"But,  "argued  Swithin,  "there  are  cases  in  which  the 
woman  does  give  the  notices,  and  so  on;  that  is  to  say, 
when  the  man  is  absolutely  hindered  from  doing  so;  and 
ours  is  such  a  case.  The  seeming  is  nothing;  I  know 
the  truth,  and  what  does  it  matter }  You  do  not  refuse 
— retract  your  word  to  be  my  wife,  because,  to  avoid  a 
sickening  delay,  the  formalties  require  you  to  attend  to 
them  in  place  of  me.-'" 

She  did  not  refuse,  she  said.  In  short  she  agreed  to 
his  entreaty.  They  had,  in  truth,  gone  so  far  in  their 
dream  of  union  that  there  was  no  drawing  back  now. 
Whichever  of  them  was  forced  by  circumstances  to  be 
the  protagonist  in  the  enterprise,  the  thing  must  be  done. 
Their  intention  to  become  hasband  and  wife,  at  first 
halting  and  timorous,  had  accumulated  momentum  with 
the  lapse  of  hours,  till  it  now  bore  down  every  obstacle 
in  its  course. 

"Since  you  beg  me  to, — since  there  is  no  alternative 
between  my  going  and  a  long  postponement,"  she  said, 
as  they  stood  in  the  dark  porch  of  Welland  House  be- 
fore parting,  —  "since  I  am  to  go  first,  and  seem  to  be 
the  pioneer  in  this  adventure,  promise  me,  Swithin, 
promise  your  Viviette,  that  in  years  to  come,  when  per- 
haps you  may  not  love  me  so  warmly  as  you  do  now" — 

"That  will  never  be." 

"Well,  hoping  it  will  not,  but  supposing  it  should, 
promise  me  that  you  will  never  reproach  me  as  the  one 
who  took  the  initiative  when  it  should  have  been  yourself, 
forgetting  that  it  was  at  your  request;   ])r(iniise  that  you 


TWO    ON  A     TOWER.  145 

will  never  say  I  showed  immodest  readiness  to  do  so,  or 
anything  which  may  imply  your  obliviousness  to  the  fact 
that  I  act  in  obedience  to  necessity  and  your  earnest 
prayer. " 

Need  it  be  said  that  he  promised  never  to  reproach 
her  with  that  or  any  other  thing  as  long  as  they  should 
live?  I'he  few  details  of  the  reversed  arrangement  were 
soon  settled,  IMelchester  being  the  place  finally  decided 
on.  Then,  with  a  warm  audacity  which  events  had  en- 
couraged, he  pressed  her  to  his  breast,  and  she  silently 
entered  the  house.  He  returned  to  the  homestead,  there 
to  attend  to  the  unexpected  duties  of  repairing  the  havoc 
wrought  b}'  the  gale. 

That  night,  in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber,  Lady 
Constantine  reopened  and  read  the  subjoined  letter, — 
one  of  those  handed  to  her  by  St.  Cleeve: — 


Street  Piccadilly 
October  15,   18 


,LY,  1 


Dear  Vivieite, — You  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that  I  am  in 
lingland,  and  that  I  am  again  out  of  harness, — unless  you  should 
have  seen  the  latter  in  the  papers.  Rio  Janeiro  may  do  for  mon- 
keys, but  it  won't  do  for  me.  Having  resigned  the  appointment, 
I  liave  returned  iiere,  as  a  preliminary  step  to  finding  another  vent 
for  my  energies;  in  other  words,  another  milch  cow  for  my  suste- 
nance. I  knew  nothmg  whatever  of  your  husband's  death  till  two 
days  ago;  so  that  any  letter  from  you  on  the  subject,  at  the  time 
it  became  known,  must  have  miscarried.  Hypocrisy  at  such  a  mo- 
ment is  worse  than  useless,  and  I  therefore  do  not  condole  with  you, 
particularly  as  the  event,  though  new  to  a  banished  man  like  me. 
occurred  so  long  since.  You  are  better  without  him,  Viviette,  and 
are  now  just  the  limb  for  doing  something  for  yourself,  notwithstand- 
ing the  threadbare  state*in  which  you  seem  to  have  been  cast  upon 
the  world.     You  are  still  young,  and,  as  I  imagine  (unless  you  have 


14'S  TJVO    OJV  A     TOWER. 

vastly  altered  since  I  beheld  you),  good-looking:  therefore  make  up 
your  mind  to  retrieve  your  position  by  a  match  with  one  of  the  local 
celebrities,  and  you  would  do  well  to  begin  drawing  ncighhoring 
covers  at  once.  A  genial  squire,  with  more  weight  than  wit,  more 
realty  than  weight,  and  more  personalty  than  realty  (considering  the 
circumstances),  would  be  best  for  you.  You  might  make  a  position 
for  us  both  by  some  such  alliance;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  had 
but  in-and-out  luck  so  far.  I  shall  be  with  you  in  little  more  than 
a  fortnight,  when  we  will  talk  over  the  matter  seriously,  if  you  don't 
object.     Your  affectionate  brother, 

Louis. 

It  was  this  allusion  to  her  brother's  coming  visit  which 
had  caught  her  eye  in  the  tower  staircase,  and  led  to  a 
modification  in  the  wedding  arrangement. 

Having  read  the  letter  through  once,  Lady  Constantine 
flung  it  aside  with  a  vigor  that  shook  the  decaying  old  flooi 
and  casement.  Its  contents  produced  perturbation,  mis- 
giving, but  not  retreat.  The  circumambient  glow  of  en- 
chantment shed  by  the  idea  of  a  private  union  with  hei 
beautiful  young  lover  killed  the  pale  light  of  cold  reason- 
ing from  an  indifferently  good  relative.  "Oh,  no, "  she 
murmured,  as  she  sat,  covering  her  face  with  her  hand. 
"Not  for  wealth  untold  could  I  give  him  up  now  !  " 

No  argument,  short  of  Apollo  himself  from  the  clouds, 
would  have  influenced  her.  She  made  her  preparations 
for  departure  as  if  nothing  had  intervened. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

IN  her  days  of  prosperity  Lady  Constantine  had  often 
staid  at  Melchester,  eidier  frivolously,  for  shopping 
purposes,  or  musico-religiously,  to  attend  choir  festivals  in 
the  cathedral;  so  there  was  nothing  surprising  in  her  re- 
verting to  an  okl  practice.  That  the  journey  might  ap- 
pear to  be  of  a  somewhat  similar  nature  she  took  with  her 
the  servant  who  had  been  accustomed  to  accompany  her 
on  former  occasions,  though  the  woman,  having  now  left 
her  service,  and  settled  in  the  village  as  the  wife  of  An- 
thony Green,  with  a  young  child  on  her  hands,  could  with 
some  difficulty  leave  home.  Lady  Constantine  overcame 
the  an.xious  mother's  scruples  by  providing  that  young 
Green  should  be  well  cared  for;  and  knowing  that  she 
could  count  upon  this  woman's  fidelity,  if  upon  anybody's, 
in  case  of  an  accident  (for  it  was  chiefly  Lady  Constantine's 
exertions  that  had  made  an  honest  wife  of  Mrs.  Green), 
she  departed  for  a  fortnight's  absence. 

The  next  day  found  mistress  and  maid  settled  in  lodg- 
ings in  an  old  plum-colored  brick  street,  which  a  hundred 
years  ago  could  boast  of  rank  and  fashion  among  its  resi- 
dents, though  now  the  broad  fan-light  over  each  broad  door 


148  TWO    ON   A     TOWER. 

admitted  the  sun  only  to  the  halls  of  a  caretaker.  The  lamp- 
posts were  still  those  that  had  done  duty  with  oil  lights; 
and  rheumatic  old  coachmen  and  postilions,  that  once  had 
driven  and  ridden  gloriously  from  London  to  Land's  End, 
ornamented  with  their  bent  persons  and  bow  legs  the  pave- 
ment in  front  of  the  chief  inn,  in  the  sorry  hope  of  earn- 
ing sixpence  to  keep  body  and  soul  together. 

"We  are  kept  well  informed  on  the  time  o'  day,  my 
lady,"  said  jNIrs.  Green,  as  she  pulled  down  the  blinds  in 
Lady  Constantine's  room,  on  the  evening  of  their  arrival. 
"There's  a  church  exactly  at  the  back  of  us,  and  I  hear 
every  hour  strike." 

Lady  Constantine  said  she  had  noticed  that  there  was  a 
church  quite  near. 

"Well,  it  is  better  to  have  that  at  the  back  than  other 
folks'  winders.  And  if  your  ladyship  wants  to  go  there  it 
won"t  be  far  to  walk." 

"That's  what  occurred  to  me,"  said  Lady  Constantine, 
—  ''i/Y  should  want  to  go." 

During  the  ensuing  days  she  felt  to  the  utmost  the  te- 
diDusness  of  waiting  merely  that  time  might  pass.  She 
went  to  and  from  shops,  with  Green  as  her  companion. 
Though  there  were  purchases  to  be  made,  they  were  by 
no  means  of  a  pressing  nature,  and  but  poorly  filled  up 
the  vacancies  of  those  strange,  speculative  days,— days  sur- 
rounded by  a  penumbra  of  fear,  yet  poetized  by  sweet 
expectation. 

On  the  fourteenth  day  she  told  Green  that  she  was  go- 
ing to  the  cathedral  close,  and  leaving  the  house  she  passed 
in  under  the  nearest  archway  to  that  spot,  where,  wander- 
ing about  beneath  the  rooks'  nest   till   her  courage  wa^ 


Tl^VO    ON  A     TOWER.  149 

screwed  to  its  highest,  she  went  round  to  the  other  side, 
and  searched  about  for  a  certain  door,  which  she  reached 
just  at  the  moment  when  her  heart  began  to  sink  to  its 
very  lowest,  rendering  all  the  screwing  up  in  vain. 

Whether  it  was  because  the  month  was  October,  or  from 
any  other  reast)n,  the  deserted  aspect  of  the  close  in  gen- 
eral sat  specially  on  this  building.  Moreover,  the  pave- 
ment was  up,  and  heaps  of  stone  and  gravel  obstructed  the 
footway.  Nobody  was  coming,  nobody  was  going,  in  that 
thoroughfare:  she  appeared  to  be  the  single  one  of  the  hu- 
man race  bent  upon  marriage  business,  which  seemed  to 
have  been  unanimously  abandoned  by  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  as  proven  foil}-.  P>ul  she  thought  of  Swithin,  his 
blonde  hair  and  ardent  eyes  and  eloquent  lips,  and  was 
carried  onward  by  the  very  reflection. 

Entering  the  surrogate's  room.  Lady  Constantine  man- 
aged at  the  last  juncture  to  state  her  errand  in  tones  so 
collected  as  to  startle  even  herself;  to  which  her  listener  re- 
plied also  as  if  the  wlidle  thing  wt-re  the  most  natural  in 
the  world.  When  it  came  to  the  affirmation  that  she  had 
lived  iiitcen  days  in  the  parish,  she  said  with  dismay,  "Oh, 
no  !  I  thought  the  filleen  days  meant  the  interval  of  resi- 
lience before  the  marriage  takes  place.  I  have  lived  here 
only  fourteen  days  and  a  half     Now  I  must  come  again  ! '' 

"  Oh — well — heh-hch — I  think  you  need  not  be  so  par- 
ticular," said  the  surrogate.  "  As  a  matter  of  fact,  though 
the  letter  of  the  law  requires  fifteen  da}s'  residence,  many 
people  make  five  sufficient.  The  provision  is  inserted,  as 
you  doubtless  are  aware,  to  hinder  runaway  marriages  as 
much  as  possible,  and  secret  unions,  and  other  such  ob- 
jectionable practices.     You  need  not  come  again." 


150  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

That  evening  Lady  Constantine  wrote  to  Swithiii  St. 
Cleeve  the  last  letter  of  the  fortnight: — 

My  Dearest, — Do  come  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can.  By  a  sort  ot 
favoring  blunder  I  have  been  able  to  shorten  the  time  of  waiting  by  a 
day.  Come  at  once,  for  I  am  almost  broken  down  with  apprehen- 
sion. It  seems  rather  rash  at  moments,  all  this,  and  I  wish  you  were 
here  to  reassure  me.  I  did  not  know  I  should  feel  so  alarmed.  I  am 
frightened  at  every  footstep,  and  dread  lest  anybody  who  knows  me 
should  accost  me,  and  find  out  why  I  am  here.  I  sometimes  wonder 
how  I  could  have  agreed  to  come  and  enact  your  part,  but  I  did  not 
realize  how  trying  it  would  be.  You  ought  not  to  have  asked  me, 
SwiLhin;  upon  my  word,  it  was  too  cruel  of  you,  and  I  will  punish 
you  for  it  when  you  come.  But  I  won't  upbraid.  I  hope  the  home- 
stead is  repaired  that  has  cost  me  all  this  sacrifice  of  modesty.  If  it 
were  anybody  in  the  world  but  yon  in  question,  I  would  rush  home, 
without  waiting  here  for  the  end  of  it, — I  really  think  I  would  !  But, 
dearest,  no.  I  must  show  my  strength  now,  or  let  it  be  forever  hid. 
The  barriers  of  ceremony  are  broken  down  between  us,  and  it  is  for 
the  best  that  I  am  here. 

And  yet  at  no  point  of  this  trying  prelude  need  Lady 
Constantine  have  feared  for  her  strength.  Deeds  in  this 
connection  demand  the  particular  kind  of  courage  that  such 
perfervid  women  are  endowed  with,  the  courage  of  their 
emotions,  in  which  young  men  are  often  lamentably  de- 
ficient. Her  fear  was,  in  truth,  the  fear  of  being  discov- 
ered in  an  unwonted  position;  not  of  the  act  itself  And 
though  her  letter  was  in  its  way  a  true  exposition  of  her 
feeling,  had  it  been  necessary  to  go  through  the  whole 
Melchester  process  over  again,  she  would  have  been  found 
equal  to  the  emergency. 

It  had  been  for  some  days  a  point  of  anxiety  with  her 
what  to  do  with  Green  during  the  morning  of  the  wedding. 


TlVO    ON  A    TOWER.  1 51 

Chance  unexpectedly  helped  her  in  this  difficulty.  T he- 
day  before  the  purchase  of  the  license,  Green  came  to  Lady 
Constantine  with  a  letter  in  her  hand  from  her  husband, 
Anthony,  her  face  as  long  as  a  fiddle. 

"I  hope  there's  nothing  the  matter.'"  said  Lady 
Constantine. 

"The  child's  took  bad,  my  lady!"  said  Mrs.  Green, 
with  floods  of  water  in  her  eyes.  "I  love  the  child  better 
than  I  shall  love  all  them  that's  coming  put  together;  for 
he's  been  a  good  boy  to  his  mother  ever  since  twelve 
weeks  afore  he  was  born.  '  I'was  he,  a  tender  deary,  thai 
made  Anthony  marry  me,  and  thereby  turned  hisself 
from  a  little  calamity  to  a  little  blessing !  For  the  man 
were  a  backward  man  in  the  church  part  o'  matrimony, 
my  lady;  though  he'll  do  anything  when  he's  forced  a 
bit  by  his  manly  feelings.  And  now  to  lose  the  child — 
hoo-hoo  00-00 —     What  shall  I  do  ! '' 

"Well,  you  want  to  go  home  at  once,  I  suppose.? " 

Mrs.  Green  explained,  between  her  sobs,  that  such  was 
her  desire;  and  though  this  was  a  day  or  two  sooner  than 
her  mistress  had  wished  to  be  left  alone,  she  consented 
to  Green's  departure.  So,  during  the  afternoon,  her 
woman  went  off,  with  directions  to  prepare  for  Lady 
Constantine's  return  in  two  or  three  days.  But  as  the 
exact  day^f  her  return  was  uncertain,  no  carriage  was 
to  be  sent  to  the  staUon  to  meet  her,  her  intention  being 
to  hire  one  from  the  hotel. 

Lady  Constantine  was  now  left  in  utter  solitude  to 
await  her  lover's  arrival. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

A  MORE  beautiful  October  morning  than  that  of  the 
"^^-  next  day  never  beamed  into  the  Welland  valleys. 
The  yearly  dissolution  of  leafage  was  setting  in  apace. 
The  foliage  of  the  park  trees,  as  it  had  rapidly  resolved 
itself  into  this  complexion  and  that  through  the  subtle 
grades  of  decay,  reflected  wet  lights  of  such  innumerable 
hues  that  it  was  a  wonder  to  think  their  beauties  only  a 
repetition  of  what  had  been  exhibited  on  scores  of  pre- 
vious Octobers  b\'  predecessors,  which  yet  had  been  al- 
lowed to  pass  away  without  a  single  dirge  from  the  im- 
perturbable beings  who  walked  among  them.  Far  in  the 
shadows  semi-opaque  .screens  of  blue  haze  made  mysteries 
of  the  commonest  gravel-pit,  dingle,  or  recess. 

The  wooden  cabin  at  the  foot  of  Rings-Hill  Speer  had 
been  furnished  by  Swithin  as  a  sitting  and  sleeping  apart- 
ment, some  little  while  before  this  time;  for  he  had  found 
it  highly  convenient,  during  night  observations  at  the  top 
of  the  column,  to  remain  on  the  spot  all  night,  not  to 
disturb  his  grandmother  by  passing  in  and  out  of  the 
house,  and  to  save  himself  the  labor  of  incessantly  cross- 
ing the  field. 


TIVO    av   A     TOWER.  1 53 

He  would  much  have  hkcd  to  tell  her  the  secret,  and 
had  it  been  his  own  to  tell  would  probably  have  done 
so;  but  sharing-  it  with  an  objector  who  knew  not  his 
grandmother's  affection  so  well  as  he  did  himself,  there 
was  no  alternative  to  holding  his  tongue.  The  more 
effectually  to  guard  it  he  decided  to  sleep  at  the  cabin 
during  the  two  or  three  nights  previous  to  his  departure, 
leaving  word  at  the  homestead  that  in  a  day  or  two  he 
was  going  on  an  excursion. 

It  was  very  necessary  to  start  early.  Long  before  the 
great  eye  of  the  sun  was  lifted  high  enough  to  dip  into 
the  Welland  valley,  St.  Cleeve  arose  from  his  bed  in  the 
cabin  and  prepared  to  depart,  cooking  his  breakfast  upon 
a  little  stove  in  the  corner.  The  young  rabbits  littered 
during  the  foregoing  summer  watched  his  preparations 
through  the  open  door  from  the  gray  dawn  without,  as 
he  busded,  half-dressed  in  and  out  under  the  boughs, 
and  among  the  blackberries  and  brambles  that  grew 
around.  It  was  a  strange  place  for  a  bridegroom  to 
perform  his  toilet  in,  but,  considering  the  unconventional 
nature  of  the  marriage,  a  not  inappropriate  one.  What 
events  had  been  enacted  in  that  earthen  camp  since  it 
was  first  thrown  up,  nobody  could  say;  but  the  primitive 
simplicity  of  the  young  man's  preparations  accorded  well 
with  the  prehistoric  spot  on  which  they  were  made.  Em- 
bedded under  his  feet  were  possibly  even  now  many  rude 
trinkets  that  had  been  worn  at  bridal  ceremonies  of  the 
early  inhabitants.  Litde  signified  those  ceremonies  to- 
day, or  the  happiness  or  otherwise  of  the  contracting 
parties.  That  his  own  rite,  nevertheless,  signifies  much 
is  the   inconsequent  reasoning  of  many  another   bride- 


154  TfVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

groom  than  Swithin;  and  he,  hke  the  rest,  went  on  with 
his  preparations,  in  that  mood  which  sees  in  his  stale 
repetition  the  possibiHties  of  an  original  move. 

Then  through  the  wet  cobwebs,  that  hung  like  mov- 
able diaphragms  on  each  blade  and  bough,  he  pushed 
his  way  down  to  the  furrow  which  led  from  the  fir-tree 
island  to  the  wide  world  beyond  the  field. 

He  was  not  a  stranger  to  enterprise,  and  still  less  to 
the  contemplation  of  enterprise;  but  an  enterprise  such 
as  this,  dictated  by  the  grand  passion,  he  had  never  even 
outlined.  That  his  dear  lady  was  troubled  at  the  situ- 
ation he  had  placed  her  in  by  not  going  himself  on  that 
errand  he  could  see  from  her  letter;  but  believing  an 
immediate  marriage  with  her  to  be  the  true  way  of 
restoring  to  both  that  equanimity  necessary  to  serene 
philosophy,  he  held  it  of  little  account  how  the  marriage 
was  brought  about,  and  happily  began  his  journey  to- 
wards her  place  of  sojourn.  Passing  through  a  little 
copse  before  leaving  the  parish,  the  smoke  from  the 
newly  lit  fires  of  which  rose  like  the  stems  of  trees  out 
of  the  few  cottage  chimneys,  he  heard  a  quick,  familiar 
footstep  in  the  path  ahead  of  him,  and,  turning  the 
corner  of  the  bushes,  confronted  the  foot-post  on  his 
way  to  Welland.  In  answer  to  St.  Cleeves  inquiry  if 
there  was  anything  for  himself,  the  postman  handed  out 
one  letter,  and  proceeded  on  his  route. 

Swithin  opened  and  read  the  letter  as  he  walked,  till  it 
brought  him  to  a  standstill  by  the  sheer  weight  of  its  contents. 
They  were  enough  to  agitate  a  more  phlegmatic  youth  than 
he.  He  leant  over  the  wicket  which  came  in  his  path,  and 
endeavored  to  comprehend  the  sense  of  the  whole. 


TfVO    ON  A    TOWER.  155 

The  large  long  envelope  contained,  first,  a  letter  from 
a  solicitor  in  a  northern  town,  informing  him  that  his 
paternal  great-uncle,  who  had  recently  returned  from  the 
Cape  (whither  he  had  gone  in  an  attempt  to  repair  a 
broken  constitution),  was  now  dead  and  buried.  This 
great-uncle's  name  was  like  a  new  creation  to  Swithin. 
He  had  held  no  communication  with  the  young  man's 
branch  of  the  family  for  innumerable  years, — never,  in 
fact,  since  the  marriage  of  Swithin's  father  with  the  simple 
daughter  of  Welland  Farm.  He  had  been  a  bachelor 
to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  amassed  a  fairly  good  profes- 
sional fortune  by  a  long  and  extensive  medical  practice 
in  the  smoky,  dreary  manufacturing  town  in  which  he 
had  lived  and  died.  Swithin  had  always  been  taught  to 
think  of  him  as  the  embodiment  of  all  that  was  unpleasant 
in  man.  He  was  narrow,  sarcastic,  and  shrewd  to  un- 
seemliness. That  very  shrewdness  had  enabled  him, 
without  much  professional  profundity,  to  establish  his 
large  and  lucrative  connection,  which  lay  almost  entirely 
among  a  class  who  neither  looked  nor  cared  for  drawing- 
room  courtesies. 

However,  what  Dr.  St.  Cleeve  had  been  as  a  practitioner 
matters  little.  He  was  now  dead,  and  the  bulk  of  his 
property  had  been  left  to  persons  with  whom  this  story 
has  nothing  to  do.  But  Swithin  was  informed  that  out 
of  it  there  was  a  bequest  of  ^^400  a  year  to  himself, — 
payment  of  which  was  to  begin  with  his  twenty-first  year, 
and  continue  for  his  life,  unless  he  should  marry  before 
reaching  the  age  of  twenty-five,  in  which  precocious  and 
objectionable  event  his  annuity  would  be  forfeited.  The 
accompanying  letter,  said  the  solicitor,  would  explain  all. 


156  rWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

This,  the  second  letter,  was  from  his  uncle  to  himself, 
written  about  a  month  before  the  former's  death,  and  de- 
posited with  his  will,  to  be  forwarded  to  his  nephew  when 
that  event  should  have  taken  place.  Swithin  read,  with 
the  solemnity  that  such  posthumous  episdes  inspire,  the 
following  words  from  one  who,  during  life,  had  never 
once  addressed  him: — 

Dear  Nephew, — You  will  doubtless  experience  some  aston- 
ishment at  receiving  a  communication  from  one  whom  you  have 
never  personally  known,  and  who,  when  this  comes  into  your 
hands,  will  be  beyond  the  reach  of  your  knowledge.  Perhaps  I 
am  the  loser  by  this  life-long  mutual  ignorance.  Perhaps  I  am 
much  to  blame  for  it;  perhaps  not.  But  such  reflections  are  prof- 
itless at  this  date:  I  have  written  with  quite  other  views  than  to 
work  up  a  sentimental  regret  on  such  an  amazingly  remote  hy- 
pothesis as  that  the  fact  of  a  particular  pair  of  people  not  meet- 
ing, among  the  millions  of  other  pairs  of  people  who  have  never 
met,  is  a  great  calamity  either  to  the  world  in  general  or  to 
themselves. 

The  occasion  of  my  addressing  you  is  briefly  this:  Nine  months 
ago  a  report  casually  reached  me  that  your  scientific  studies  were 
pursued  by  you  with  great  ability,  and  that  you  were  a  young 
man  of  some  promise  as  an  astronomer.  My  own  scientific  pro- 
clivities rendered  the  report  more  interesting  than  it  might  other- 
wise have  been  to  me;  and  it  came  upon  me  quite  as  a  surprise 
that  any  issue  of  your  father's  marriage  should  have  so  much  in 
him,  or  you  might  have  seen  more  of  me  in  former  years  than 
you  are  ever  likely  to  do  now.  My  health  had  then  begun  to 
fail,  and  I  was  starting  for  the  Cape,  or  I  should  have  crme  my- 
self to  inquire  into  your  condition  and  prospects.  I  did  ntt  re- 
turn till  six  months  later,  and,  as  my  health  had  not  improved, 
I  sent  a  trusty  friend  to  examine  into  your  life,  pursuits,  and 
circumstances,  without  your  own  knowledge,  and  to  report  his 
observations  to  me.  This  he  did.  Tlnough  liim  I  learnt,  of  fa 
vorable  news:  — 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  1 57 

(I.)  Tliat  you  worked  assiduously  at  the  science  ot   astronomy. 

(2.)  That  everything  was  auspicious  in  the  career  you  have 
chosen. 

Of  unfavoralilc  news: — ■ 

(I.)  That  the  small  income  at  your  command,  even  when 
eked  out  by  the  sum  to  which  you  would  be  entitled  on  your 
grandmother's  death  and  the  free-hold  of  the  homestead,  would 
be  inadequate  becomins^ly  to  support  you  as  a  scientific  man, 
whose  lines  of  work  were  of  a  naUue  not  calculated  to  produce 
an  income  for  many  years,  if  ever. 

(2.)  That  there  was  something  in  your  path  worse  than  nar- 
row means,  and  that  that  something  was  a  woman. 

To  save  you,  if  possible,  from  niin  on  these  heads,  I  take 
the  preventive  measures  detailed  below. 

The  chief  step  is,  as  ray  solicitor  will  have  informed  you, 
that  the  sum  of  ;^400  a  year  Ije  settled  on  you  for  life,  provided 
you  do  not  marry  before  reaching  the  age  of  twenty-five, — the 
annuity  to  begin  at  the  end  of  the  first  six  months  after  you  reach 
the  age  of  twenty-one;  and,  vice  versa,  that  if  you  do  maixy  be- 
fore reaching  that  age  you  will  receive  nothing  thenceforward. 

One  object  of  my  bequest  is  that  you  may  have  resources 
sufficient  to  enable  you  to  travel  and  study  the  Southern  constel- 
lations. When  at  the  Cape,  after  hearing  of  your  pursuits,  I  was 
much  struck  with  the  importance  of  those  constellations  to  an 
astronomer  just  pushing  into  notice.  There  is  more  to  be  made 
of  the  Southern  hemisphere  than  ever  has  been  made  of  it  yet; 
the  mine  is  not  so  thoroughly  worked  as  the  Northern,  and 
thither  your  studies  should  tend. 

The  only  other  preventive  step  in  my  power  is  that  of  ex- 
hortation, at  which  I  am  not  an  adept.  Nevertheless,  I  say  to 
you,  Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself,  as  your 
father  did.  If  your  studies  are  to  be  worth  anything,  believe  me, 
they  must  be  carried  on  without  the  help  of  a  woman.  Avoid 
her,  and  every  one  of  the  sex,  if  ytai  mean  to  achieve  any  worthy 
thing.  Eschew  all  of  that  sort  for  many  a  year  yet.  Moreover, 
I  say,  the  lady  of  your  acquaintance  avoid  in  particular.  I  have 
heard   nothing   aga  n.^t    her    moral    character    hitherto;    I    have   no 


"158  TIVO    ON  A     TOJVE/?. 

doubt  it  has  been  excellent.  She  may  have  many  good  qualities, 
both  of  heart  and  of  mind.  But  she  has,  in  addition  to  her  origi- 
nal disqualification  as  a  companion  for  you  (that  is,  that  of  sex) 
these  two  serious  drawbacks:  she  is  much  older  than  yourself — 

"Much  older!"  said  Swithin,   resentfully. 

— and  she  is  so  impoverished  that  the  title  she  derives  from 
her  late  husband  is  a  positive  objection.  Beyond  this,  frankly, 
I  don't  think  well  of  her.  I  don't  think  well  of  any  woman  who 
dotes  upon  a  man  younger  than  herself  She's  half,  or  quarter, 
a  foreigner,  is  she  not? — or  is  it  only  her  name?  To  care  to  be 
the  first  fancy  of  a  young  fellow  like  you  shows  no  great  com- 
mon .sense  m  her.  If  she  were  worth  her  salt,  she  would  have 
too  much  pride  to  be  intimate  with  a  youth  in  your  unassured 
position,  to  say  no  worse.  She  is  old  enough  to  know  that  a 
liaison  with  her  may,  and  almost  certainly  would,  l>e  your  min; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  a  marriage  would  be  prepo.sterous, 
— unless  she  is  a  complete  fool,  and  in  that  case  there  is  even 
more   reason  for  avoiding  her   than  if  she  were  in  her  few  senses. 

A  woman  of  honorable  feeling,  nephew,  would  be  careful  to 
do  nothmg  to  hinder  you  in  your  career,  as  this  putting  of  her- 
self in  your  way  most  certainly  will.  Yet  I  hear  that  she  pro- 
fesses a  great  anxiety  on  this  same  future  of  yours  as  a  physicist. 
The  best  way  in  which  she  can  show  the  reality  of  her  anxiety 
is  by  leaving  you  to  yourself.  Perhaps  she  persuades  herself  that 
she  is  doing  you  no  harm.  Well,  let  her  have  the  benefit  of  the 
possible  belief;  but  depend  upon  it  that  in  truth  she  gives  the 
lie  to  her  conscience  by  maintaining  such  a  transparent  fallacy. 
Women's  brains  are  not  formed  for  assisting  at  any  profound 
science:  they  lack  the  power  to  see  things  except  in  the  concrete. 
She'll  blab  your  most  secret  plans  and  theories  to  eveiy  one  of 
her  acquaintance — 

"  She's  got  none  !  "  said  Swithin,  beginning  to  get  warm. 

— and  make  them  appear  ridiculous  by  announcing  them  before 
they  are  matured.  If  you  attempt  to  study  with  a  wom.an,  you'll 
!«  ruled  by  her  to  entertain  fancies  instead  of  theories,  a'r-castles 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  159 

instead  of  intentions,  qualms  instead  of  opinions,  sickly  prepos- 
sessions instead  of  reasoned  conclusions.  Your  wide  heaven  of 
study,  young  man,  will  soon  reduce  itself  to  the  miserable  narrow 
expanse  of  her  face,  and  your  myriad  of  stars  to  her  two  trump- 
ery  eyes. 

A  woman  waking  your  passions  just  at  a  moment  when  you 
are  endeavoring  to  shine  mtellectually  is  like  stirring  up  the  mud 
at  the  bottom  of  a  clear  brook.  All  your  -brightness  and  sparkle 
are  taken  away;  you  become  moping  and  thick-headed;  obstruc- 
tions that  before  only  brought  out  your  brilliancies  now  distort 
and  disfigure  your  each  dull  attempt  to  surmount  them. 

Like  a  certain  philosopher,  I  would,  upon  my  soul,  have  all 
young  men  from  eighteen  to  five-and-twenty  kept  under  barrels: 
seeing  how  often,  in  the  lack  of  some  such  sequestering  process, 
the  woman  sits  down  before  each  as  his  destiny,  and  too  frequently 
enei-vates  his  puipose,  till  he  abandons  the  most  promising  course 
ever  conceived. 

But  no  more.  I  now  leave  your  fate  in  your  own  hands. 
Your  well-wishing  relative, 

JocELYN  St.  Cleeve, 

Doctor  in  Medicine. 

As  coming  from  a  bachelor  and  hardened  misogynist  of 
seventy-two,  the  opinions  herein  contained  were  nothing 
remarkable;  but  their  practical  result  in  restricting  the  sud- 
den endowment  of  Swithin's  researches  by  conditions  which 
turned  the  favor  into  a  harassment  was,  at  this  unique  mo- 
ment, discomfiting  and  distracting  in  the  highest  degree. 

Sensational,  however,  as  the  letter  was,  the  passionate 
intention  of  the  day  was  not  hazarded  for  more  than  a  few 
minutes  thereby.  The  truth  was,  the  caution  and  bribe 
came  too  late,  too  unexpectedly,  to  be  of  influence.  They 
were  the  sort  of  thing  which  required  fermentation  to  ren- 
der them  effective.  Had  St.  Cleeve  received  the  exhorta- 
tion a  month  earlier;  had  he  been  able  to  run  over  in  his 


l6o  TfVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

mind,  at  everv  wakeful  hour  of  thirty  consecutive  nights, 
a  private  catechism  on  the  possibihties  opened  up  by  this 
annuity,  there  is  no  tellin^t;;  what  might  have  been  the  stress 
of  such  a  web  of  perplexity  upon  him, — a  }oung  man 
whose  love  for  celestial  physics  was  second  to  none.  But 
to  have  held  befoi-e  him,  at  the  last  moment,  the  picture 
of  a  future  advantage  that  he  had  never  once  thought  of, 
or  discounted  for  present  staying  power,  it  affected  him 
about  as  much  as  the  view  of  horizons  shown  by  sheet- 
lightning.  He  saw  an  immense  prospect;  it  went,  and  the 
world  was  as  before. 

He  caught  the  train  at  Warborne,  and  moved  rapidly 
towards  Melchester;  not  precisely  in  the  same  key  as  when 
he  had  dressed  in  the  hut  at  dawn,  but,  as  regarded  the 
mechanical  furtherances  of  the  journey,  as  unhesitating  as 
before.  And  with  the  change  of  scene  even  his  gloom  left 
him;  his  bosom's  lord  sat  lightl)-  in  his  throne.  St.  Cleeve 
was  not  sufficiently  in  mind  of  poetical  literature  to  re- 
member that  wise  poets  are  accustomed  to  read  that  light- 
ness inversely.  Swilhin  thought  it  an  omen  of  good  for- 
tune, and  as  thinking  is  causing  in  woi  a  few  such  cases, 
he  was  perhaps,  in  spite  of  poets,  right. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A  T  the  station  Lady  Constantine  appeared,  standing  ex- 
pectant;'he  saw  her  face  from  the  window  of  the  car- 
riage long  before  she  saw  him.  He  no  sooner  saw  her 
than  he  was  satisfied  to  his  heart's  content  with  his  prize. 
If  his  great-uncle  had  offered  him,  from  the  grave,  a  king- 
dom instead  of  her,  he  would  not  have  accepted  it.  Swith- 
in  jumped  out,  and  nature  never  painted  in  a  woman's  face 
more  devotion  than  appeared  in  my  lady's  at  that  moment. 
To  both  the  situation  seemed  like  a  beautiful  allegory,  not 
to  be  examined  too  closely,  lest  its  defects  of  correspond- 
ence with  real  life  should  be  apparent. 

They  almost  feared  to  shake  hands  in  public,  so  much 
depended  upon  their  passing  that  morning  without  moles- 
tation.    A  fly  was  called,  and  they  drove  away. 

"Take  this,"  she  said,  handing  him  a  folded  paper. 
"It  belongs  to  you  rather  than  to  me." 

At  crossings,  and  other  occasional  pauses,  pedestrians 
turned  their  faces  and  looked  at  the  pair  (for  no  reason  but 
that,  among  so  man_\-,  there  were  necessarily  a  few  of  the 
sort  who  have  eyes  to  ncjte  what  incidents  chance  holds  be- 
fore them  as  iliey  plod  on);  but  the  two  in  the  vehicle  could 


t6i  TIVO    OiV  A    TOWER. 

hot  but  fear  that  these  innocent  beholders  had  special  de- 
tective designs  on  them. 

While  driving  round  the  close  a  fine-looking  man,  of 
middle  age,  came  from  the  palace  gates,  and  struck  across 
the  grass  by  a  footpath.  He  wore  a  corded  shovel  hat  of 
glossy  beaver,  and  black  breeches. 

"Who  is  he  .^     The  bishop,  I  suppose,"  said  Swithin 

"Yes,"  Lady  Constan tine  replied.  "Dr  Helmsdale.  I 
have  seen  him  two  or  three  times  since  my  arrival.  He  is 
but  lately  consecrated,  as  you  know. "  Nothing  further  hap- 
pened, and  they  were  set  down  opposite  a  shop,  about  fifty 
yards  from  the  church  door,  at  five  minutes  to  eleven. 

"We  will  dismiss  the  fly,"  she  said.  "  It  will  only  at- 
tract idlers. " 

On  turning  the  corner  and  reaching  the  church,  they 
found  the  door  ajar;  but  the  building  contained  only  two 
persons,  a  man  and  a  woman, — the  clerk  and  his  wife,  as 
thev  learnt.    Swithin  asked  when  the  clergvman  would  arrive. 

The  clerk  looked  at  his  watch,  and  said,  ' '  At  just  on 
eleven  o'clock." 

"  He  ought  to  be  here,"  said  Swithin. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  clerk,  as  the  hour  struck.  "The 
fact  is,  sir,  he  is  a  deputy,  and  apt  to  be  rather  wandering 
in  his  understanding  as  regards  time  and  such  like,  which 
hev  stood  in  the  way  of  the  man's  getting  a  benefit.  But 
no  doubt  he'll  come." 

"The  regular  incumbent  is  away,  then  .'  " 

"He's  gone  for  his  bare  pa'son's  fortnight, — that's  all; 
and  was  forced  to  put  up  with  a  weak-talented  man  or 
none.  I'll  tell  ye  what,  sir:  1  think  I'd  better  run  round 
to  the  gentleman's  lodgings,  and  try  to  find  him.'' 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  1 63 

"  Pray  do,"  said  Lady  Constantine. 

The  clerk  left  the  church;  his  wiTe  busied  herself  with 
dusting  at  the  further  end,  and  Swithin  and  Viviette  were 
left  to  themselves.  The  imagination  travels  so  rapidly,  and 
a  w^oman's  forethought  is  so  assumptive,  that  the  clerk's 
departure  had  no  sooner  doomed  them  to  inaction  than  it 
was  borne  in  upon  Lady  Constantine's  mind  that  she  would 
not  become  the  wife  of  Swithin  St.  Cleeve.  either  to-day 
or  on  any  other  day.  Her  divinations  were  continually 
misleading  her,  she  knew;  but  a  hitch  at  the  moment  of 
marriage  surely  had  a  meaning  in  it. 

"Ah, — the  marriage  is  not  to  be  !  "  she  said  to  herself. 
"This  is  a  fatality." 

It  was  twenty  minutes  past,  and  no  parson  had  arrived. 
Swithin  took  her  hand.  "If  it  cannot  be  to-day,  it  can 
be  to-morrow,"  he  whispered. 

"I  cannot  eay,'' she  answered.  "Something  tells  me 
no. 

It  was  almost  impossible  that  she  could  know  anything 
of  the  deterrent  force  exercised  on  Swithin  by  his  dead 
uncle  that  morning.  Yet  her  manner  tallied  so  curiously 
well  with  such  knowledge  that  he  was  struck  by  it,  and 
remained  silent. 

"  You  have  a  black  tie,"  she  continued,  looking  at  him. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Swithin.     "I  bought  it  on  my  way  here." 

"Why  could  it  not  have  been  less  somber  in  color .^  " 

"My  great-uncle  is  dead." 

"You  had  a  great-uncle.?     You  never  told  me." 

"  I  nevej  saw  him  ir.  my  life.  I  have  only  heard  about 
him  since  his  death.''  He  spoke  in  as  quiet  and  measured 
a  way  as  he  could,  but  his  heart  was  sinking.     She  would 


1 64  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

go  on  questioning;  he  could  not  tell  her  an  untruth.  She 
would  discover  particulars  of  that  great-uncle's  provision 
for  him,  which  he,  Swithin,  was  throwing  away  for  her 
sake,  and  she  would  refuse  to  be  his  for  his  own  sake. 
His  conclusion  at  this  moment  was  precisely  what  hers 
had  been  five  minutes  sooner:  they  were  never  to  be  hus- 
band and  wife. 

But  she  did  not  continue  her  questions,  for  the  simplest 
of  all  reasons:  hasty  footsteps  were  audible  in  the  entrance, 
and  the  parson  was  seen  coming  up  the  aisle,  the  clerk 
behind  him  wiping  the  beads  of  perspiration  from  his  face 
The  somewhat  sorry  clerical  specimen  shook  hands  with 
them,  and  entered  the  vestry;  and  the  clerk  came  up  and 
opened  the  book. 

"  The  poor  gentleman's  memory  is  a  bit  top.-^y-turvy, " 
whispered  the  latter.  "  He  had  got  it  in  his  mind  that  't 
were  a  funeral,  and  I  found  him  wandering  about  the 
cemetery  a  looking  for  us.  However,  all's  well  as  ends 
well."     And  the  clerk  wiped  his  forehead  again. 

"How  ill-omened!"  murmured  Viviette.  But  the 
parson  came  out  robed  at  this  moment,  and  the  clerk 
put  on  his  ecclesiastical  countenance  and  looked  in  his 
book.  Lady  Constantine's  momentary  languor  passed; 
her  blood  resumed  its  courses  with  a  new  spring.  The 
subdued  thunder  of  tlie  church  then  rolled  out  upon 
the  palpitating  pair,  and  no  couple  ever  joined  theii 
whispers  thereto  with  more  fervency  than  they. 

Lady  Constantine  (as  she  for  some  time  continued  to 
be  called  by  the  outside  world,  and  may  therefore  be 
still  called  here)  had  told  Green  that  she  might  be  ex- 
pected at  Welland  in  a  day,  or  two,  or  three,  as  circum- 


TfVO    ON  A    TOWER.  165 

Stance;  should  dictate.  Though  the  time  of  return  was 
thus  left  open,  it  was  deemed  advisable,  by  both  Swithin 
and  herself,  that  her  journey  back  should  not  be  deferred 
after  the  next  day,  in  case  any  suspicions  might  be 
aroused.  As  for  St.  Cleeve,  his  comings  and  goings 
were  of  no  consequence.  It  was  seldom  known  whether 
he  was  at  home  or  abroad,  by  reason  of  his  frequent  se- 
clusion at  the  column. 

Lite  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  he  accompanied 
her  to  the  Melchester  station,  intending  himself  to  remain 
in  that  city  till  llie  following  morning.  But  when  a  man 
or  youtii  has  such  a  tender  article  on  his  hands  as  a 
thirty-hour  bride,  it  is  hardly  in  the  power  of  his  strongest 
reason  to  set  her  down  at  a  railway,  and  send  her  off  like 
a  superfluous  portmanteau;  wherefore,  the  experiment 
of  parting  so  soon  after  their  union  jn-oved  excrutiatingly 
severe  to  these.  The  evening  was  dull;  the  breeze  of 
autumn  cre{)L  fitfuil}-  through  every  slit  and  aperture  in 
the  town;  not  a  soul  in  the  world  seemed  to  notice  or 
care  about  anything  they  did.  Lady  Constantine  sighed 
and  there  was  no  resisting  it, — he  could  not  leave  her 
thus.  He  decided  to  get  into  the  train  with  her,  and 
keep  her  company  for  at  least  a  few  stations  on  her  way. 

It  drew  (in  to  be  a  dark  night,  and,  seeing  that  there 
was  no  serious  risk,  after  all,  he  prolonged  his  journey 
witli  her  so  far  as  to  the  junction  at  which  the  branch 
line  to  Warboire  forked  off.  Here  it  was  necessary  to 
wa't  a  few  minutes,  before  either  he  could  go  back  or 
she  could  go  on.  They  wandered  outside  the  station 
doorway  into  the  gloom  of  the  road,  and  there  agreed  to 
part. 


1 66  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

While  she  yet  stood  holding  his  arm  a  phaeton  sped 
up  to  the  station  entrance,  where,  in  wheeling  round,  the 
horse  suddenly  jibbed.  The  gentleman  who  was  driving, 
being  either  impatient,  or  possessed  of  a  theory  that  all 
jibbers  may  be  started  by  severe  whipping,  because  that 
plan  had  answered  with  one  in  fifty,  applied  the  lash;  as 
a  result  of  it,  the  horse  thrust  round  the  carriage  to 
where  they  stood,  and  the  end  of  the  driver's  sweeping 
whip  cut  across  Lady  Constantine's  face  with  such  sever- 
ity as  to  cause  her  an  involuntary  cry.  Swithin  turned 
her  round  to  the  lamplight,  and  discerned  a  streak  of 
blood  on  her  cheek. 

By  this  time  the  gentleman  who  had  done  the  mischief, 
with  many  words  of  regret,  had  given  the  reins  to  his 
man  and  dismounted. 

"I  will  go  to  the  waiting-room  for  a  moment,"  whis- 
pered Viviette,  hurriedly;  and,  loosing  her  hand  from 
his  arm,  she  pulled  down  her  veil  and  vanished  inside 
the   building. 

The  stranger  came  forward  and  raised  his  hat.  He  was 
a  slightly  built  and  apparently  town-bred  man,  of  twenty- 
eight  or  thirty;  his  manner  of  address  was  at  once  careless 
and  conciliatory.  "  I  am  greatly  concerned  at  what  I 
have  done, "  he  said.  "I  sincerely  trust  that  your  wife  " 
— but  observing  the  youthfulness  of  Swithin,  he  withdrew 
the  words  suggested  by  the  manner  of  Swithin  towards 
Lady  Constantine — "I  trust  the  young  lady  was  not  se- 
riously cut .?  " 

^'I  trust  not,"  said  Swithin,   with  sorne  vexation. 

^' Where  did  the  lash  touch  her.?" 

"Straiirht  down  her  cheek." 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  1 67 

"Let  me  go  to  her  and  humbly  apologize." 

"  I'll  inquire.''  He  went  to  the  ladies'  room,  in  which 
Viviettc  had  taken  refuge.  She  met  him  at  the  door, 
her  handkerchief  to  her  check,  and  Swithin  explained 
thai  the  eirivcr  of  the  phaeton  had  sent  to  make  inquiries. 

"I  cannot  see  him!"  she  whispered.  "He  is  my 
brother  Louis  !  He  is,  no  doubt,  going  on  by  the  train 
to  my   house.      We  must  wait  till  he  is  gone." 

Swithin,  thereupon,  went  out  again,  and  telling  the 
young  man  that  the  cut  on  her  face  was  not  serious, 
but  that  she  could  not  see  him,  alter  a  few  words  they 
parted.  St.  Cleeve  then  heard  him  ask  for  a  ticket  for 
Warborne,  which  confirmed  Lady  Constantine's  view  that 
he  was  going  on  to  her  house.  When  the  branch  train 
had  moved  off,  Swithin  returned  to  his  bride,  who  waited 
in  a  trembling  state  within. 

"  Is  he  gone  .^  "  she  asked;  and  on  being  informed  that 
he  had  departed  showed  herself  much  relieved. 

"Where  does  your  brother  come  from  .■'  "  said  Swithin. 

"From  London,  immediately.  Rio  before  that.  He 
has  a  friend  or  two  in  this  neighborhood,  and  visits  here 
occasionally.  I  have  seldom  or  never  spoken  to  you  of 
him,   because  of  his  long  absence." 

"  Is  he  going  to  settle  near  you  .'  " 

"No,  nor  anywhere,  I  fear.  He  is,  or  rather  was, 
in  the  diplomatic  service.  He  was  first  a  clerk  in  the 
foreign  office,  and  was  afterwards  appointed  attache  at 
Rio  Janeiro.  But  he  has  resigned  the  appointment.  I 
wish  he  had   not." 

"Why  did  he  resign.'" 

♦'  He  complained  of  the  banishment,  and  the  cliniate, 


1 68  nVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

and  everything  that  people  complain  of  who  are  deter- 
mined to  be  dissatisfied, — though,  poor  fellow,  there  is 
some  ground  for  his  complaints.  Perhaps  some  people 
would  say  that  he  is  idle.  But  he  is  scarcely  that;  he  is 
rather  restless  than  idle,  so  that  he  never  persists  in  any- 
thing. Yet  if  a  subject  takes  his  fancy  he  will  follow  it  up 
with  exemplary  patience  till  somethmg  diverts  him." 

"  He  is  not  kind  to  you,  is  he,  dearest.''  " 

"Why  do  you  think  that.?" 

"  Your  manner  seems  to  say  so." 

"Well,  he  may  not  always  be  kind.  But  look  at  my 
face,  does  the  mark  show }  " 

A  streak  straight  as  a  meridian,  was  visible  down  her 
cheek.  The  blood  had  been  brought  almost  to  the  sur- 
face, but  was  not  quite  through,  that  which  had  originally 
appeared  thereon  having  possibly  come  from  the  horse.  It 
signified  lluit  to-morrow  the  red  line  would  be  a  black  one. 

Swilhin  informed  her  that  her  brother  had  taken  a 
ticket  for  Warborne,  and  she  at  once  perceived  that  he 
was  going  on  to  visit  her  at  Welland,  though  from  his, 
letter  she  had  not  expected  him  so  soon  by  a  few  days. 
"  JNIeanwhile, "  continued  Swilhin,  "you  can  now  get 
home  only  by  the  late  train,  having  missed  that  one." 

"  But.  .Swilhin,  don't  you  see  my  new  trouble.''  If  1 
g  )  to  Welland  House  to-night,  and  find  my  brother  just 
arrived  there,  and  he  sees  this  cut  on  my  face, — which  I 
suppose  you  described  to  him  " — 

"I  did." 

—  "he  will  know  I  was  the  lady  with  you  !" 

"Whom  he  called  my  wife.  I  wonder  why  we  look 
husband  and  wife  already  !  " 


riVO    ON  A     TOWER.  169 

"Then  what  am  I  to  do?  F<;>r  the  ensuing  three  or 
four  days  I  bear  in  my  face  a  clew  to  his  discovery  c,f 
our  secret." 

"Then  you  must  not  be  seen.  We  must  stay  jI 
an  inn  here." 

"Oh,  no!"  she  said  timidly.  "It  is  too  near  homo 
to  be  quite  safe.  We  might  not  be  known;  but  if  we 
were  ! 

"We  can't  go  back  to  Melchester  now.  I'll  tell 
you,  dear  Viviette,  what  we  must  do.  We'll  go  on  to 
Warborne  in  separate  carriages;  we'll  meet  outside  the 
station;  thence  we'll  walk  to  the  column  in  the  dark, 
and  I'll  keep  you  a  captive  in  the  cabin,  till  the  scar 
has  disappeared. " 

As  there  was  nothing  which  better  recommended  it- 
self, this  course  was  decided  on;  and  after  taking  from 
her  trunks  the  articles  that  might  be  required  for  an 
incarceration  of  two  or  three  days,  they  left  the  said 
trunks  at  the  cloak-room  and  went  on  by  the  Isst  train, 
which  reached  Warborne  about  ten  o'clock.  It  was 
only  necessary  for  Lady  Constantine  to  cover  her  free 
with  the  thick  veil  that  she  had  provided  for  this  es- 
capade, to  walk  out  of  the  station  without  fear  of  rec- 
ognition. St.  Cleevc  came  forth  from  another  com- 
pirlmcnt,  and  they  did  not  rejoin  each  other  till  they 
had  reached  a  shadowy  bend  in  the  old  turnpike  rorul, 
bjyond  the  irradiation  of  the  Warborne  lamplight. 

The  walk  to  Welland  was  long.  It  was  the  walk 
wliich  Switliin  had  taken  in  the  rain  when  he  had 
learnt  the  fatal  furestallment  of  his  stellar  discovery;  but 
now    he   wa,s    moved    by    a    less    desperate   mood,    and 


170  7W0    ON  A    TOWER. 

blamed  neither  God  nor  man.  They  were  not  bound 
for  time,  and  passed  along  the  silent,  lonely  way  wui. 
that  sense  rather  of  predestination  than  of  choice  m 
their  proceedings  which  the  presence  of  night  some- 
limes  imparts.  Reaching  the  park  gate,  they  found  u 
open,  and  from  this  they  inferred  that  her  brother 
Louis  had  arrived. 

Leaving  the  house  and  park  on  their  right,  they 
traced  the  highway  yet  a  little  further,  and,  plunging 
through  -the  stubble  of  the  opposite  field,  drew  near 
the  isolated  earthwork  bearing  the  plantation  and  tower, 
which,  together,  rose  like  a  flattened  dome  and  lantern 
from  the  lighter-hued  plain  of  stubble.  It  was  far  too 
dark  to  distinguish  firs  from  other  trees  by  the  eye  alone, 
but  the  peculiar  dialect  of  sylvan  language  which  the 
piny  conclave  used  would  have  been  enough  to  pro- 
claim their  quality  at  any  time.  In  the  lovers'  stealthy 
progress  up  the  slopes  a  dry  stick  here  and  there  snap- 
ped beneath  their  feet,   seeming  like  a  shot  of  alarm. 

On  being  unlocked,  the  hut  was  found  precisely  as 
Swithin  had  left  it  two  days  before.  Lady  Constantine 
was  thoroughly  wearied,  and  sat  down,  while  he  gathered 
a  handful  of  twigs  and  spikelets  from  the  masses 
strewn  without,  and  lit  a  small  fire,  first  taking  the  pre- 
caution to  blind  the  little  window  and  relock  the  door. 
I-aciy  Constantine  looked  curiously  around  by  the  light 
of  the  b'aze.  The  hut  was  small  as  the  prophet's 
chamber  provided  by  the  Shunamite:  its  size  was 
ab(. ut  seven  feet  by  eleven;  in  one  corner  stood  the 
stove,  with  a  little  t.ible  and  chair,  a  small  cupboard 
hard  bv,  a  })!tclicr  uf  water,  a  ra,ck  overhead,  with  v^rj^ 


TPt^O    ON  A    TOWER.  17I 

ous  articles,  including  a  kettle  and  gridiron;  while  the 
other  end  of  the  room  was  fitted  out  as  a  dormitory, 
for  Swithin's  use  during  late  observations  in  the  tower 
overhead. 

"It  is  not  much  of  a  palace  to  offer  you,"  he  re- 
marked,  smiling.      "But  at  any  rate,    it  is  a  refuge." 

The  cheerful  firelight  dispersed  in  some  measure 
Lady  Constantine's  anxieties.  "If  we  only  had  some- 
thing to  eat !  "  she  said. 

"Dear  me,"  cried  St.  Cleeve,  blankly,  "That's  a 
thing  I  never  thought  of" 

"Nor  I,   till  now,"  she  replied. 

He  reflected  with  misgiving.  "Beyond  a  small  loaf 
of  bread  in  the  cupboard,  I  have  nothing.  However, 
just  outside  the  door  there  are  lots  of  those  little  rab- 
bits, about  the  size  of  rats,  that  the  keepers  call  run- 
ners. And  they  are  as  tame  as  possible.  But  I  fear  I 
could  not  catch  one  now.  Yet,  dear  Viviette,  wait  a 
minute;   I'll  try.      You  must  not  be  starved." 

He  softly  let  himself  out,  and  was  gone  some  time. 
When  he  reappeared,  he  produced,  not  a  rabbit,  but 
four  sparrows  and  a  thrush.  "I  could  do  nothing 
in  the  way  of  a  rabbit  without  setting  a  wire,"  he  said. 
"But  I  have  managed  to  get  these  by  knowing  where 
they  roost." 

He  showed  her  how  to  prepare  the  birds,  and,  hav- 
ing 5K;t  her  to  roast  them  by  the  fire,  departed  with 
the  pitcher,  to  replenish  it  at  the  brook  which  flowed 
near  the  homestead  in  the  neighboring  Bottom. 

"They  are  all  asleep  at  my  grandmothers,"  he  in- 
formed her,  when  he  re-entered,    panting,  with  the-  diip- 


172  TWO    OU  A    TOWER. 

ping    pitcher.      "They    imagine    me   to   be   sixty   miles 
off." 

The  birds  were  now  ready,  and  the  table  was  spread. 
With  this  fare,  eked  out  by  dry  toast  from  the  loaf, 
and  moistened  with  cups  of  water  from  the  pitcher,  to 
which  Swithin  added  a  little  wine  from  the  flask  he 
had  carried  on  his  journey,  they  were  forced  to  be  con- 
tent for  their  supper. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

WHEN  Lady  Constantine  awoke,  the  next  morning, 
Swithin  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Before  she  was 
quite  ready  for  breakfast  she  heard  the  key  turn  in  the 
door,  and  felt  startled,  till  she  remembered  that  the 
comer  could  hardly  be  anybody  but  he.  He  brought 
a  basket  with  provisions,  an  extra  cup  and  saucer, 
and  so  on.  In  a  short  space  of  time  the  kettle  began 
singing  on  the  stove,  and  the  morning  meal  was  begun. 
The  sweet  resinous  air  from  the  firs  blew  in  upon  them, 
as  they  sat  at  breakfast;  the  birds  hopped  round  the 
door  (which,  somewhat  riskily,  they  ventured  to  keep 
open);  and  at  their  elbow  rose  the  tall,  lank  column 
into  a  realm  of  sunlight,  which  only  reached  them  in 
fitful  darts  and  flashes. 

"I  could  be  happy  here  forever,"  said  she,  clasping 
his  hand.  "I  wish  I  could  never  see  my  great  gloomy 
house  again,  since  I  am  not  rich  enough  to  throw  it 
open,  and  live  there  as  I  ought  to  do.  Poverty  of  this 
sort  is  not  unpleasant,  at  any  rate.  What  are  you 
thinking  of.'" 

"1  am  thinking  about  my  outing  this  morning.      On 


174  TIVO    OM  A    TOWER. 

reaching  m\'  grandmother's  she  was  only  a  Httle  sur- 
prised to  see  me.  I  was  obliged  to  breakfast  there,  or 
appear  to  do  so,  to  divert  suspicion;  and  this  food  is 
supposed  to  be  wanted  for  my  dinner  and  supper. 
There  will  of  course  be  no  difficulty  in  my  obtaining 
an  ample  supply  for  any  length  of  time,  as  I  can  take 
what  I  like  from  the  buttery  without  observation.  But 
as  I  looked  in  my  grandmother's  face  this  morning, 
and  saw  her  looking  affectionately  in  mine,  and  thought 
how  she  had  never  concealed  anything  from  me,  and  had 
always  had  my  welfare  at  heart,  I  felt — that  I  should 
like  to  tell  her  what  we  have  done." 

"Oh,  no, — please  not,  Swithin  !  "  she  exclaimed 
piteously. 

"Very  well,"  he  answered.  "On  no  consideration 
will  I  do  so  without  your  assent."  And  no  more  was 
said  on  the  matter. 

The  morning  was  passed  in  applying  wet  rag  and 
other  remedies  to  the  purple  line  on  Viviette's  cheek; 
and  in  the  afternoon  they  set  up  the  equatorial  under 
the  replaced  dome,  to  have  it  in  order  for  nighf 
observations. 

The  evening  was  clear,  dry,  and  remarkably  cold  by 
comparison  with  the  day-time  weather.  After  a  frugal  sup- 
per, they  replenished  the  stove  with  charcoal  from  the 
homestead,  which  they  also  burnt  during  the  day, — an  idea 
of  Viviette's,  that  the  smoke  from  a  wood  fire  might  not 
be  seen  more  frequently  than  was  consistent  with  the  oc- 
casional occupation  of  the  cabin  by  Swithin,  as  heretofore. 

At  eight  o'clock  she  insisted  upon  his  ascending  the 
tower  for  observations,  in  strict  pursuance  of  the  idea  on 


TIVO    OAT  A    TOWER.  ITS 

which  their  marriage  had  been  based,  namely,  that  of  re- 
storing regularity  to  his  studies. 

The  sky  had  a  new  and  startling  beauty  that  night.  A 
broad,  fluctuating,  semicircular  arch  of  vivid  white  light 
spanned  the  northern  quarter  of  the  heavens,  reaching 
from  the  horizon  to  the  star  Eta  in  the  Great  Bear.  It 
was  the  Aurora  Borealis,  just  risen  up  for  the  winter  sea- 
son out  of  the  freezing  seas  of  the  north,  where  every  au- 
tumn vapor  was  now  undergoing  rapid  congelation. 

"Oh,  let  us  sit  and  look  at  it!"  she  said;  and  they 
.turned  their  backs  upon  the  equatorial  and  the  southern 
glories  of  the  heavens  to  this  new  beauty  in  a  quarter  which 
they  seldom  contemplated.  The  luster  of  the  fixed  stars 
was  diminished  to  a  sort  of  blueness.  Little  by  little  the 
arch  grew  higher  against  the  dark  void,  like  the  form  of 
the  spirit-maiden  m  the  shades  of  Glenfinlas,  till  its  crown 
drew  near  the  zenith,  and  threw  a  tissue  over  the  whole 
wagon  and  horses  of  the  great  northern  constellation. 
Brilliant  shafts  radiated  from  the  convexity  of  the  arch, 
coming  and  going  silently.  The  temperature  fell,  and 
Lady  Constantine  drew  her  wrap  more  closely  around  her. 

"We'll  go  down,"  said  Swithin.  "The  cabin  is  beau- 
tifullv  warm.  Why  should  we  try  to  observe  to-night.? 
Indeed,  we  cannot;  the  Aurora  light  overpowers  every- 
thing." 

"Very  well.  To-morrow  night  there  will  be  no  inter- 
ruption.     I  shall  be  gone." 

"You  leave  me  to-morrow,  Viviette.?" 

"Yes;  to-morrow  morning." 

Indeed,  with  the  progress  of  the  hours  and  days,  the 
conviction  was  borne  in  upon  Viviette  more  and  more 


I 'J 6  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

forcibly  tliat  not  for  kingdoms  and  principalities  could  she 
afford  to  risk  the  discovery  of  her  presence  here  by  any 
living  soul. 

"  But  let  me  see  your  face,  dearest,"  he  said.  "I  don't 
think  it  will  be  safe  for  yoU  to  meet  your  brother  yet." 

As  it  was  too  dark  to  see  her  face  on  the  summit  where 
they  sat,'  they  descended  the  winding  staircase;  and  in  the 
cabin  Swithin  examined  the  damaged  cheek.  The  line, 
though  broken  up  into  dashes,  and  so  far  attenuated  as 
not  to  be  observable  by  any  one  but  an  intimate,  had  not 
quite  disappeared.  But  in  consequence  of  her  reiterated 
and  almost  tearful  anxiety  to  go,  and  as  there  was  a  strong 
probability  that  her  brother  had  left  the  House,  Swithin 
decided  to  call  at  Welland  next  morning,  and  reconnoiter 
with  a  view  to  her  return. 

Locking  her  in,  he  crossed  the  dewy  stubble  into  the 
park.  The  house  was  silent  and  deserted;  and  only  one 
tall  stalk  of  smoke  ascended  from  the  chimneys.  N(jt- 
withstanding  that  the  hour  was  hardly  nine,  he  knocked 
at  the  door. 

"Is  Lady  Constantine  at  home.?"  asked  Swithin,  with  a 
disingenuousness  now  habitual,  yet  unknown  to  him  six 
months  before. 

"No,  Mr.  St.  Cleeve;  my  lady  has  not  returned  from 
Melchester.     We  expect  her  every  day." 

"  Nobody  staying  in  the  house  .•*  " 

"My  lady's  brother  has  been  here;  but  he  is  gone  on 
to  Budmouth.     He  will  come  again  in  two  or  three  weeks 
I  understand." 

This  was  enough.  Swithin  said  he  would  call  again, 
and  returned  to  the  cabin,  where,  waking  Viviette,   who 


riVO    ON-  A    TOWEk.  177 

was  not  by  nature  an  early  riser,  he  waited  on  the  column 
till  she  was  ready  to  breakfast.  When  this  had  been  shared 
they  prepared  to  start. 

A  long  walk  was  before  them.  Warborne  station  lay 
five  miles  distant,  and  the  next  station  above  that  nine 
miles.  They  were  bound  k)x  the  latter;  their  plan  being 
that  she  should  there  take  the  train  to  Filton  Junction 
(where  the  whip  accident  had  occurred),  claim  her  lug- 
gage, and  return  with  it  to  Warborne,  as  if  from  Melches- 
ter.  The  morning  was  cool,  and  the  walk  not  wearisome. 
When  once  they  had  left  the  stubble  field  of  their  environ- 
ment and  the  parish  of  Welland  behind,  they  sauntered  on 
comfortably.  Lady  Constantine's  spirits  rising  as  she  with- 
drew further  from  danger. 

They  parted  by  a  little  brook,  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
station;  Swithin  to  return  to  Welland  by  the  way  he  had 
come. 

Lady  Constantine  telegraphed  from  Filton  to  Warborne 
for  a  carriage  to  be  in  readiness  to  meet  her  on  her  arrival; 
and  then,  waiting  for  the  down  train,  she  traveled  smoothly 
home,  reaching  Welland  House  about  five  minutes  sooner 
than  Swithin  reached  the  column  hard  by,  after  foodng  it 
all  the  way  from  where  they  had  parted. 


CHAPTER   XXL 

"P^ROIM  that  day  forward  their  hfe  resumed  its  old  chan- 
■*-  nel  in  general  outward  aspect.  Perhaps  the  most 
remarkable  feature  in  their  romantic  exploit  was  its  com- 
parative effectiveness  as  an  expedient  for  the  end  designed, 
— that  of  restoring  calm  assiduity  to  the  studies  of  these 
astronomers.  Swithin  took  up  his  old  position  as  the 
lonely  philosopher  at  the  column,  and  Lady  Constantine 
lapsed  back  to  immured  existence  at  the  house,  with  ap- 
parently not  a  friend  in  the  parish.  The  enforced  narrow- 
ness of  life  which  her  limited  resources  necessitated  was 
now  an  additional  safeguard  against  the  discovery  of  her  re- 
lationship with  St.  Cleeve.  Her  neighbors  seldom  troubled 
her;  as  much,  it  must  be  owned,  from  a  tacit  understand- 
ing that  she  was  not  in  a  position  to  return  invitations  as 
from  any  selfish  coldness  engendered  by  her  want  of 
wealth. 

At  the  first  meeting  of  the  secretly  united  pair  after  their 
short  honeymoon,  they  were  compelled  to  behave  as  stran- 
gers to  each  other.  It  occurred  in  the  only  part  of  Wel- 
land  which  deserved  the  name  of  a  village  street,  and  all 
the  laborers  were   returning  to  their   midday  meal,   with 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  1 79 

those  of  their  wives  who  assisted  at  out-door  work.  Be- 
fore the  eyes  of  this  innocent  though  quite  untrustworthy 
group,  Swithin  and  his  Viviette  could  only  shake  hands 
in  passing,  though  she  continued  to  say  to  him  in  an  un- 
ilerlone,  "  My  brother  does  not  return  yet  for  some  time. 
He  has  gone  to  Paris.  I  will  be  on  the  lawn  this  evening, 
if  you  can  come."  It  was  a  fluttered  smile  that  she  be- 
stowed on  him,  and  there  was  no  doubt  that  every  fiber 
of  her  heart  vibrated  afre.^h  at  meeting,  with  such  reserve, 
one  who  stood  in  his  intimate  relation  to  her. 

The  shades  of  night  fell  early  now,  and  Swithin  was  at 
the  spot  (if  ni)pointment  about  the  time  that  he  knew  her 
dinner  wtnild  be  over.  It  was  just  where  they  had  met 
at  the  beginning  of  the  year,  but  many  changes  had  re- 
sulted since  then.  The  flower  beds  that  had  used  to  be  so 
neatly  edged  were  now  jagged  and  leaf)';  black  stars  ap- 
peared on  the  pale  surface  of  the  gravel  walks,  denoting 
tufts  of  grass  that  grew  unmolested  there.  Lady  Con- 
stantine's  external  affairs  wore  just  that  aspect  which  sug- 
gests that  new  blood  may  be  advantageously  introduced 
into  the  line;  and  new  blood  had  been  introduced,  in 
good  sooth, — with  what  result  remained  to  be  seen. 

She  silently  entered  on  the  scene  from  the  same  window 
which  had  given  her  passage  in  months  gone  by.  They 
met  with  a  concerted  embrace,  and  St.  Cleeve  spoke  his 
greeting  in  whispers. 

"We  are  quite  safe,  dearest,"  said  she. 

"  But  the  servants.'  " 

"  My  meager  staff  consists  of  only  two  and  the  boy;  and 
they  are  away  in  the  other  wing.  I  thought  you  would 
like  to  see  the  inside  of  my  house,  after  showing  me  the 


l8o  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

inside  of  yours.      So  we  will  walk  through  it  instead  of 
staying  out  here." 

She  let  him  in  through  the  casement,  and  they  strolled  . 
forward  softly,  Swithin  never  before  having  gone  beyond- 
the  library.  The  whole  western  side  of  the  house  was  at 
this  time  shut  up,  her  life  being  confined  to  two  or  three 
small  rooms  in  the  southeast  corner.  The  great  apartment-s 
through  which  they  now  whisperingly  walked  wore  already 
that  funereal  aspect  that  comes  from  disuse  and  inattention. 
Triangular  cobwebs  already  formed  little  hammocks  for 
the  dust  in  corners  of  the  wainscot,  and  a  close  smell  of 
wood  and  leather,  seasoned  with  mouse-droppings,  per-, 
vaded  the  atmosphere.  So  seldom  was  the  solitude  of 
these  chambers  intruded  on  by  human  feet  that  more  than 
once  a  mouse  stood  and  looked  the  twain  in  the  face  from 
the  arm  of  a  sofa,  or  the  top  of  a  cabinet,  without  any 
great  fear. 

Swithin  had  no  residential  ambition  whatever,  but  he 
was  interested  in  the  place.  "Will  the  house  ever  be 
thrown  open  to  gayety,  as  it  was  in  old  times  ^ "  said  he. 
"Not  unless  you  make  a  fortune,"  she  replied  laugh- 
ingly. "  It  is  mine  for  my  life,  as  you  know;  but  the  es- 
tate is  so  terribly  saddled  with  annuities  to  Sir  Blount's 
distant  relatives,  one  of  whom  will  succeed  me  here,  that 
I  have  practically  no  more  than  my  own  little  private  in- 
come to  exist  on. " 

' '  And  are  you  bound  to  occupy  the  house  ?  " 
"Yes;  that  was  one  of  the  capricious  conditions." 
"And  was  there  any  stipulation  in  the  event  of  your 
remarriage  ?  " 

"It  was  not  naentioned." 


TIVO    OA'   A     TOWER.  l8l 

"  It  is  satisfactory  to  find  that  you  lose  nothing  by  marry- 
ing me,  at  all  events,  dear  Vivictte." 

"I  hope  you  lose  nothing,  cither, — at  least,  of  conse- 
quence." 

' '  What  have  I  to  lose  ?  " 

"  I  meant  your  liberty.  Suppose  you  become  a  popu- 
lar physicist  (popularity  seems  cooling  towards  art  and  co- 
queting  with  science  nowadays),  and  a  better  chance  offers, 
and  one  who  would  make  you  a  newer  and  brighter  wife 
than  I  am  comes  in  your  way:  will  you  never  regret  this.' 
Will  you  never  despise  me.^  " 

Swithin  answered  by  a  kiss,  anil  they  again  went  on; 
proceeding  like  a  couple  of  burglars,  lest  they  should  at- 
tract the  attention  of  the  cook  or  Green. 

in  one  of  the  upper  rooms  his  eyes  were  attracted  by  an 
old  chamber  organ,  which  had  once  been  lent  for  use  in 
the  church.  He  mentioned  "his  recollection  of  the  same, 
which  led  her  to  say,  "That  reminds  me  of  something  ! 
There  is  to  be  a  confirmation  in  our  parish  in  the  spring, 
and  you  once  told  me  that  you  had  never  been  confirmed. 
What  shocking  neglect  !     Why  was  it .'  " 

"  I  hardly  know.  The  confusion  resulting  from  my  fa- 
ther's death  caused  it  to  be  forgotten,  I  suppose." 

"Now,  dear  Swithin,  you  will  do  this  to  please  me, — 
be  confirmed  on  the  present  occasion."' 

"Since  I  have  done  without  the  virtue  of  it  so  long, 
might  I  not  do  without  it  altogether.? " 

"No,  no  !  "  she  said  earnestly.  "  I  do  wish  it,  indeed. 
I  am  made  unhappy  when  I  think  you  don't  care  about 
such  serious  matters.  Without  the  church  to  cling  to, 
what  have  we } '' 


1 82  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"Each  other.  But,  seriously,  I  should  be  inverting 
the  established  order  of  spiritual  things;  people  ought  to 
be  confirmed  before  they  are  married. " 

' '  That's  really  of  minor  consequence.  Now,  don't  think 
slightingly  of  what  so  many  good  men  have  laid  down  as 
necessary  to  be  done.  And,  dear  Swithin,  I  somehow  feel 
that  a  certain  levity  which  has  perhaps  shown  itself  in  our 
treatment  of  the  sacrament  of  marriage — by  making  a  clan- 
destine adventure  of  what  is,  after  all,  a  solemn  rite — would 
be  well  atoned  for  by  a  due  seriousness  in  other  points  of 
religious  observance.  This  opportunity  should  therefore 
not  be  passed  over.  I  thought  of  it  all  last  night;  and 
you  are  a  parson's  son,  remember.  In  short,  Swithin,  do 
be  a  good  boy,  and  observe  the  church's  ordinances. " 

Lady  Constantine,  by  virtue  of  her  temperament,  was 
necessarily  either  lover  or  devote,  and  she  vibrated  so  grace- 
fully between  these  two  conditions  that  nobody  who  had 
known  the  circumstances  could  have  condemned  her  in- 
consistencies. To  be  led  into  difficulties  by  those  master- 
ing emotions  of  hers,  to  aim  at  escape  by  turning  round 
and  seizing  the  apparatus  of  religion  (which,  however, 
could  only  rightly  be  worked  by  those  emotions  already 
bestowed  elsewhere), — it  was,  after  all,  but  Nature's  well- 
meaning  attempt  to  preserve  the  honor  of  her  daughter's 
conscience  in  the  trying  quandary  to  which  the  conditions 
of  se.x  had  given  birth.  As  Viviette  could  not  be  confirmed 
herself,  and  as  the  first  Sunday  in  the  month  was  a  long 
way  off,  she  urged  Swithin  thus. 

"And  the  new  bishop  is  such  a  good  man,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  Do  you  remember  seeing  him  in  the  cathedrs^l 
close.'     I  liked  the  look  of  hini  much," 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  1 83 

"Very  well,  dearest.     To  please  you  I'll  be  confirmed. 
I\Iy  grandmother,  too,  will  be  delighted,  no  doubt." 

The}'  continued  their  ramble;  Lady  Constantine  first  ad- 
vancing into  rooms  with  the  candle,  to  assure  herself  that 
all  was  empty,  and  then  calling  him  forward  in  a  whisper. 
The  stillness  was  broken  only  by  these  whispers,  or  the 
occasional  crack  of  a  floor-board  beneath  their  tread.  At 
last  they  sat  down,  and,  shading  the  candle  with  a  screen, 
she  showed  him  the  faded  contents  of  this  and  that  drawer 
or  cabinet,  or  the  wardrobe  of  some  member  of  the  family 
who  had  died  young  early  in  the  century,  when  muslin 
reigned  supreme,  when  waists  were  close  to  arm-pits,  and 
muffs  as  large  as  smugglers'  tubs. 

These  researches  among  habilimental  hulls  and  husks, 
whose  human  kernels  had  long  ago  perished,  had  gone 
on  about  half  an  hour,  when  the  companions  were  startled 
by  a  loud  ringing  at  the  front  door  bell. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

T  ADY  CONSTANTINE  flung  down  the  old-fkshioned 
^^  lace-work,  whose  beauties  she  had  been  pointing 
out  to  Swithin,  and  exxlaimed,  "Who  can  it  be?  Not 
Louis,  surely  ?  " 

They  Hstened.  An  arrival  was  such  a  phenomenon  at 
this  unfrequented  mansion,  and  particularly  a  late  arrival, 
that  no  servant  was  on  the  alert  to  respond  to  the  call;  and 
the  visitor  ranci  again  more  loudlv  than  before.  Sounds  of 
the  tardy  opening  and  shutting  of  a  passage-door  from  the 
kitchen  quarter  then  reached  their  ears,  and  Viviette  went 
into  the  corridor  to  hearken  more  attentively.  In  a  few 
minutes  she  returned  to  the  wardrobe-room  in  which  she 
had  left  Swithin. 

"Yes;  it  is  my  brother,"  she  said,  with  difficult  com- 
posure. "I  just  caught  his  voice.  He  has  no  doubt 
come  back  from  Paris  to  stay.  This  is  a  rather  vexatious, 
indolent  way  he  has,  never  to  write  to  prepare  me  !  " 

"I  can  easily  go  away,"  said  Swithin. 

By  this  time,  however,  her  brother  had  been  shown 
into  the  house,  and  the  footsteps  of  the  page  were  audi- 
ble, coming  in  search  of  Lady  Constantine. 

"If you  will  wait  there  a  moment,"  she  said,  directing 


TPFO    OAT  A    TOWER.  1 83 

St.  Cleeve  into  her  dressing-room,  which  adjoined.  "You 
will  be  quite  safe  from  interruption,  and  I  will  quickly 
come  back."     Taking  the  light,  she  left  him. 

Swithin  waited  in  darkness.  Not  more  tlian  ten  minutes 
had  passed  when  a  whisper  in  her  voice  came  through 
tlie  keyhole.      He  opened  the  door. 

"  Yes;  he  is  come  to  stay  !  "  she  said.  "  He  is  at  sup- 
per now. " 

"Very  well;  don't  be  flurried,  dearest.  Shall  I  sta}', 
too.'" 

"Oh,  Swithin,  I  fear  not!"  she  replied  anxiously. 
"You  sec  how  it  is.  To-night  we  have  broken  the  ar- 
rangement that  you  should  never  come  here;  and  this  is 
the  result.      Will  it  offend  you  if — I  ask  you  to  leave.?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  Upon  the  whole,  I  prefer  the  com- 
fort of  my  little  cabin  and  homestead  to  the  guantness  and 
alarms  of  this  place." 

"There,  now,  I  fear  you  are  offended!"  she  said,  a 
tear  collecting  in  her  eye.  "Would  that  I  were  going 
back  with  }'0U  to  the  cabin  !  How  happy  we  were,  those 
three  days  of  our  stay  there  !  But  it  is  better,  perhaps, 
just  now,  that  you  should  leave  me.  Yes,  these  rooms 
are  oppressive.  They  require  a  large  household  to  make 
them  cheerful.  .  .  .  Yet,  Swithin,"  she  added,  after  re- 
flection, "I  will  not  request  you  to  go.  Do  as  you 
think  best.  I  will  light  a  night-light  and  leave  you  here 
to  consider.  For  myself,  I  must  go  down-stairs  to  my 
brother  at  once,  or  he'll  wonder  what  I  am  doing." 

She  kindled  the  little  light,  and  again  retreated,  closing 
the  door  upon  him. 

Swithin  stood  and  waited  some  time;  till  he  considered 


1 86  TfVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

that  upon  the  whole  it  would  be  preferable  to  leave 
With  this  intention  he  emerged,  and  went  softly  alono:  the 
dark  passage  towards  the  extreme  end,  where  there  was 
a  little  crooked  staircase  that  would  conduct  him  down 
to  a  disused  side  door.  Descending  this  stair  he  diilv 
arrived  at  the  other  side  of  the  house,  facing  the  quar- 
ter whence  the  wind  blew;  and  here  he  was  surprised 
to  catch  the  noise  of  rain  beating  against  the  windows. 
It  was  a  state  of  weather  which  fully  accounted  for  the 
visitor's  impatient  ringing. 

St.  Cleeve  was  in  a  minor  kind  of  dilemma.  The  rain 
reminded  him  that  his  hat  and  great-coat  had  been  left 
down-stairs,  in  the  front  part  of  the  house;  and  though 
he  might  have  gone  home  without  either  in  ordinary 
weather,  it  was  not  a  pleasant  feat  in  the  pelting  winter 
rain.  Retracing  his  steps  to  Viviette's  room,  he  took  the 
light,  and  opened  a  closet  door  that  he  had  seen  ajar  on 
his  w^ay  down.  It  was  a  closet  in  which  hung  various 
articles  of  apparel,  upholstery  lumber  of  all  kinds  filling 
the  back  part.  Swithin  thought  he  might  find  here  a 
":loak  of  hers  to  throw  round  him,  but  finally  took  down 
rom  a  peg  a  more  suitable  garment,  the  only  one  of  the 
3ort  that  was  there.  It  was  an  old  moth-eaten  great-coat, 
heavily  trimmed  with  fur;  and  in  removing  it  a  compan- 
ion cap  of  seal-skin  was  disclosed. 

"Whose  can  they  be."*"  he  thought,  and  a  gloomy 
answer  suggested  itself  "Pooh,"  he  then  said  (sum- 
moning the  .scientific  side  of  his  nature),  "matter  is  mat- 
ter, and  mental  association  only  a  delusion."  Putting  on 
the  garments,  he  returned  the  light  to  Lady  Constantine's 
dressing-room,  .and  again  prepared  to  depart,   as  before. 


TH^O    ON  A     TOWER.  1 87 

Scarcely,  however,  had  he  regained  the  corridor  a  sec- 
ond time,  when  he  heard  a  Hght  footstep — seemingly 
Viviette's — again  on  the  front  landing.  Wondering  what 
she  wanted  with  him  further,  he  waited,  taking  the  pre- 
caution to  step  into  a  closet  till  sure  it  was  she. 

The  figure  came  onward,  bent  to  the  keyhole  of  the 
dressing-room  door,  and  whispered  (supposing  him  still 
inside),  "Swithin,  on  second  thoughts,  I  think  you  may 
stay  with  safety." 

Having  no  further  doubt  of  her  personality,  he  came 
out  with  thoughtless  abruptness  from  the  closet  behind 
her,  and  looking  round  suddenly  she  beheld  his  shadowy 
fur-clad  oudine.  At  once  she  raised  her  hands  in  horror 
as  if  to  protect  herself  from  him;  she  uttered  a  shriek  and 
turned  shudderingly  to  the  wall,  covering  her  face. 

Swithin  would  have  picked  her  up  in  a  moment  but 
by  this  time  he  could  hear  footsteps  rushing  upstairs,  in 
response  to  her  cry.  In  consternation,  and  entirely  with 
the  view  of  not  compromising  her,  he  effected  his  retreat 
as  fast  as  possible,  reaching  the  bend  of  the  corridor  just 
as  her  brother  Louis  appeared  with  a  light  at  the  other 
extremitv. 

"What's  the  matter,  for  Heaven's  sake,  Viviette.?"  said 
Louis. 

"  My  husband  !  "  she  involuntarily  exclaimed. 

"  What  nonsense  !  " 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is  nonsense,"  she  added  with  an  effort 
"  It  was  nothing." 

"  But  what  was  the  cause  of  your  cry  ? " 

She  had  evidently  by  this  time  recovered  her  reason 
and  judgment.      "Oh,  it  was  a  trick  of  the  imagination," 


1 88  TIVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

she  said,  with  a  faint  laugh.  ''I  live  so  much  alone  that 
I  get  superstitious — and — I  thought  for  the  moment  I 
saw  an  apparition  !  " 

"  Of  your  late  husband  ?  " 

"Yes.  But  it  w-as  nothing;  it  was  the  outline  of  the 
tall  clock  and  the  chair  behind.  Would  you  m.ind  go- 
ing down,  and  leaving  me  to  go  into  my  room  for  a 
moment.?  " 

She  entered  the  bedroom,  and  her  brother  went  down- 
stairs. Swithin  thought  it  best  to  leave  well  alone,  and. 
going  noiselessly  out  of  the  house,  plodded  through  the 
rain  homeward.  It  was  plain  that  agitations  of  one  sort 
and  another  had  so  w^eakened  Viviette's  ner^-es  as  to  lay 
her  open  to  every  impression.  That  the  clothes  he  had 
borrowed  were  some  cast-off  garments  of  the  late  Sir  Blount 
had  occurred  to  St.  Cleeve  in  taking  them;  but  in  the 
moment  of  returning  to  her  side  he  had  forgotten  this,  and 
the  shape  they  lent  his  figure  had  obviously  been  a  re- 
minder of  too  sudden  a  sort  for  her.  ]M  using  thus,  he 
walked  along  as  if  he  were  still,  as  before,  the  lonely  student 
dissociated  from  all  mankind,  and  with  no  shadow  of  right 
or  interest  in  Welland  House  or  its  mistress. 

The  great-coat  and  cap  were  unpleasant  companions; 
but  Swithin  having  been  reared,  or  having  reared  himself, 
in  the  scientific  school  of  thought,  would  not,  as  has  been 
said,  give  way  to  his  sense  of  their  weird ness.  To  do  so 
would  have  been  like  treason  to  his  own  beliefs  and  aims. 

When  nearly  home,  at  a  point  where  his  track  converged 
on  another  path,  there  approached  him  from  the  latter  a 
group  of  indistinct  forms.  The  tones  of  their  speech  re- 
vealed them  to  be  Hezzy  Biles,  Nat  Chapman,  Fry,  and 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  189 

other  laborers.  Swithin  was  about  to  say  a  word  to  them; 
till,  recollecting  his  disguise,  he  deemed  it  advisable  to 
hold  his  tongue,  lest  his  attire  should  tell  a  too  dangerous 
tale  as  to  where  he  had  come  from.  By  degrees  they  drew 
closer,  their  walk  being  in  the  same  direction. 

"Good-night,  stranger,"  said  Nat. 

The  stranger  did  not  reply. 

All  of  them  paced  on  abreast  of  him,  and  he  could 
perceive  in  the  gloom  that  their  faces  were  turned  inquir- 
ingly upon  his  form.  Then  a  whisper  passed  from  one 
to  another  of  them;  then  Chapman,  who  was  the  boldest, 
dropped  immediately  behind  his  heels,  and  followed  there 
for  some  distance,  taking  close  observations  of  his  outline, 
after  which  the  men  grouped  again  and  whispered.  Think- 
ing it  best  to  let  them  pass  on,  Swithin  slackened  his 
pace,  and  they  went  ahead  of  him,  apparently  without 
much  reluctance. 

There  ^vas  no  doubt  that  they  had  been  impressed  by 
the  clothes  he  wore;  and  having  no  wish  to  provoke  similar 
comments  from  his  grandmother  and  Hannah,  Swithin 
took  the  precaution,  on  arriving  at  Welland  Bottom,  to 
enter  the  homestead  by  the  outhouse.  Here  he  deposited 
the  cap  and  coat  in  secure  hiding,  afterwards  going  round 
to  the  front,  and  opening  the  door  in  the  usual  way. 

In  the  entry  he  met  Hannah,  who  said,  ' '  Only  to  hear 
what  have  been  seed  to-night,  Mr.  Swithin  !  The  work- 
folk have  dropped  in  to  tell  us  !  " 

In  the  kitchen  were  the  men  who  had  outstripped  him 
on  the  road.  Their  countenances,  instead  of  wearing: 
the  usual  knotty  irregularities,  had  a  smoothed-out  ex- 
pression of  blank  concern.     Swiihin's  entrance  having  been 


1 90  TJVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

unobtrusive  and  quiet,  as  if  he  had  merely  come  down 
from  his  study  upstairs,  they  only  noticed  him  by  enlarging 
their  gaze,  so  as  to  include  him  in  the  audience. 

"We  was  in  a  deep  talk  at  the  moment,"  continued 
Blore,  "and  Nat  had  just  brought  up  that  story  about 
old  Jeremiah  Paddock's  crossing  the  park  one  night  at 
one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  seeing  Sir  Blount  a-shutting 
my  lady  out-o'-doors;  and  we  was  saying  that  it  seemed 
a  true  return  that  he  should  perish  in  a  foreign  land;  when 
we  happened  to  look  up,  and  there  was  Sir  Blount  a-walking 
along.  ■' 

"  Did  it  overtake  you,  or  did  you  overtake  it } "  inquired 
Hannah. 

"I  don't  say  'twas  il,"  returned  Sammy.  "God  forbid 
that  I  should  drag  in  a  resurrection  word  about  what 
perhaps  was  still  solid  manhood,  and  has  to  die.  But 
he,  or  it,  closed  in  upon  us,  as  'twere. " 

"Yes,  closed  in  upon  us,"  said  Haymoss. 

"And  I  said  'Good-night,  stranger,'"  added  Chapman. 

"Yes,  'Good-night,  stranger,' — that  wez  yer  words, 
Natty.     I  support  ye  in  it. " 

"And  then  he  closed  in  upon  us  still  more." 

"We  closed  in  upon  he,  rather,"  said  Chapman. 

"Well,  well;  'tis  the  same  thing  in  these  onnateral 
matters  ! — And  the  form  was  Sir  Blount's.  My  nostrils 
told  me,  for — there,  'a  smelled.  Yes,  I  could  smell  'n, 
being  to  leeward. " 

"Lord,  lord,  what  an  unwholesome  scandal  about  the 
ghost  of  a  respectable  gentleman  !  "  said  Mrs.  Martin,  who 
had  entered  from  the  sitting-room. 

"Now,  wait,  ma'am.      I  don't  say  'twere  a  low  smell, 


TPVO    ON'  A    TOWER.  I91 

mind  ye.  'Twere  a  high  smell,  a  sort  of  gamey  flavlor, 
calling  to  mind  venison  and  hare,  just  as  you'd  expect 
of  a  great  squire, — not  like  a  poor  man's  'natomy,  at  all; 
and  that  was  what  strengthened  my  faith  that  'twas  Sir 
Blount." 

("It  was  the  skins  that  old  coat  was  made  of,"  thought 
Swithin. ) 

"Well,  well;  I've  not  defied  the  figure  of  starvation 
these  five  and  twenty  year,  on  nine  shillings  a  week,  to 
be  afeard  of  a  walking  vapor,  sweet  or  savory,"  said  Hezzy. 
"So  here's  home-along." 

"Bide  a  bit  longer,  and  I'm  going,  too,"  continued 
Fry.  "Well,  when  I  found  'twas  Sir  Blount  my  spet 
dried  up  within  me;  for  neither  hedge  nor  bush  were 
there  for  refuge  against  any  foul  spring  'a  might  have 
made  at  us. " 

"'Twas  very  curious;  but  we  had  likewise  mentioned 
his  name  just  afore,  in  talking  of  the  confirmation  that's 
shortly  coming  on,"  said  Hezzy. 

"Is  there  soon  to  be  a  confirmation  .''  " 

"  Yes.  In  this  parish, — the  first  time  in  Welland  church 
for  twenty  years.  As  I  say,  I  had  told  'em  that  he  was 
confirmed  the  same  year  that  I  went  up  to  have  it  done, 
as  I  have  very  good  c^use  to  mind.  When  we  went  to 
be  examined,  the  pa'son  said  to  me,  '  Rehearse  the  articles 
of  thy  belief  Mr.  Blount  (as  he  w-as  then)  was  nighest 
me,  and  he  whispered,  '  Women  and  wine.'  '  Women  and 
wine,'  says  I  to  the  pa'son:  and  for  that  I  was  sent  back 
till  next  confirmation.  Sir  Blount  never  owning  that  he 
was  the  rascal. " 

"Confirmation  was  a  sight  different  at  that  time,"  said 


T92  TPVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

Biles.  "The  Bishops  didn't  lay  it  on  so  strong  then  as 
they  do  now.  Nowadays,  yer  Bishop  gies  both  hands  to 
every  Jack-rag  and  Tom -straw  that  drops  the  knee  afore 
him;  but  'twas  six  chaps  to  one  blessing  when  we  was 
boys.  The  Bishop  a'  that  time  would  stretch  out  his 
palms  and  run  his  fingers  over  our  row  of  crowns  as  off- 
hand as  a  bank  gentleman  telling  money.  The  great 
prophets  of  the  church  in  them  days  wasn't  particular  to  a 
soul  or  two  more  or  less;  and,  for  my  part,  I  think  living 
was  easier  for  "t. " 

"The  new  Bishop,  I  hear,  is  a  bachelor-man;  or  a 
widow  gentleman  is  it .?  "  asked  Mrs.  Martin. 

"Bachelor,  I  believe,  ma'am.  Mr.  San  Cleeve,  making 
so  bold,  vou've  never  faced  him  vet,  I  think  .?  " 

Mrs.  Martin  shook  her  head.  "No;  it  was  a  piece  of 
neglect.      1  hardly  know  how  it  happened,"  she  said. 

"I  am  going  to,  this  time,'' said  Swithin,  and  turned 
thechat  to  other  matters 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

S  WITH  IN  could  not  sleep  that  night  for  thinking  of 
his  Viviette.  Nothing  told  so  significantly  of  the 
conduct  of  her  first  husband  towards  the  poor  lady  as  the 
abiding  dread  of  him  which  was  revealed  in  her  by  any 
sudden  revival  of  his  image  or  memory.  But  for  that 
consideration,  her  almost  child-like  terror  at  Swithin's 
inadvertent  disguise  would  have  been  ludicrous. 

He  waited  anxiously  through  several  following  days  for 
an  opportunity  of  seeing  her,  but  none  was  afforded.  Her 
brother's  presence  in  the  house  sufficiently  accounted  for 
this.  At  length  he  ventured  to  write  a  note,  requesting 
her  to  signal  to  him  in  a  way  she  had  done  once  or  twice 
before, — by  pulling  down  a  blind  in  a  particular  window 
of  the  house,  one  of  the  few  visible  from  the  top  of  the 
Rings-Hill  column;  this  to  be  done  on  any  evening  before 
dark,  when  she  could  see  him  after  dinner  on  the  terrace. 

When  he  had  leveled  the  glass  at  the  window  for  five 
successive  nights  he  beheld  the  blind  in  the  posidon  sug- 
gested. Three  hours  later,  quite  in  the  dusk,  he  lepaired 
to  the  place  of  appointment. 

"  My  brother  is  away  this  evening,"  she  explained,  "and 
that's  why  I  can  come  out.     He  is  not  gone  for  more  than 


194  ^f^O    OAT  A    TOWER. 

a  few  hours,  nor  is  he  likely  to  do  so  just  yet.  He  keeps 
himself  a  good  deal  in  my  company,  which  has  made  it 
unsafe  for  me  to  venture  near  you." 

"  Has  he  any  suspicion  .''  " 

"  None  apparently.     But  he  rather  depresses  me." 

"How,  Viviette.''  I  fear,  from  your  manner,  that  this 
is  something  serious. " 

"I  would  rather  not  tell." 

"But—     Well,  never  mind  !  " 

"Yes,  Swithin,  I  will  tell  you.  There  should  be  no 
secrets  between  us.  He  urges  upon  me  the  necessity  of 
marning,  day  after  day. " 

"  For  money  and  position,  of  course. " 

"Yes.      But  I  take  no  notice.     I  let  him  go  on." 

"Really,  this  is  sad  !  '*  said  the  young  man.  "I  must 
work  harder  than  ever,  or  you  will  never  be  able  to  own  me. " 

"Oh,  yes,  in  good  time  !  "  she  cheeringly  replied. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  have  you  always  near  me.  I 
felt  the  gloom  of  our  position  keenly  when  I  was  obliged 
to  disappear,  that  night,  without  assuring  you  it  was  only 
I  who  stood  there.  Why  were  you  so  frightened  at  those 
old  clothes  I  borrowed  'i  " 

"Don't  ask, — don't  ask  !"  she  said,  burying  her  face 
on  his  shoulder.  "  I  don't  want  to  speak  of  that.  There 
was  something  so  ghastly  and  so  uncanny  in  your  putting 
on  such  garments  that  I  wish  you  had  been  more  thought- 
ful, and  had  left  them  alone. " 

"I  did  not  stop  to  consider  whose  they  were.  By  the 
way,  they  must  be  sent  back." 

"No;  I  never  wish  to  see  them  again  !  I  cannot  help 
feeling  that  your  putting  them  on  was  ominous." 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  1 95 

"Nothing  is  ominous  in  serene  philosophy,"  he  said, 
kissing  her.  "Things  are  either  causes,  or  they  are  not 
causes.     When  can  you  see  me  again  }  " 

In  such  wise  the  hour  passed  away.  The  evening  was 
tvpical  of  others  which  followed  it  at  irregular  intervals 
through  the  winter.  And  during  the  intenser  months  of 
the  season,  frequent  falls  of  snow  lengthened  even  more 
than  other  difficulties  had  done  the  periods  of  isolation 
between  the  pair.  Swithin  adhered  with  all  the  more 
strictness  to  the  letter  of  his  promise  not  to  intrude  into 
the  house,  from  his  sense  of  her  powerlessness  to  compel 
him  to  keep  out  should  he  choose  to  rebel.  A  student  of 
the  greatest  forces  in  nature,  he  had,  like  many  others 
of  his  sort,  no  personal  force  to  speak  of,  in  a  social  point 
of  view,  mainly  because  he  took  no  interest  in  human 
ranks  and  intricacies;  and  hence  he  was  docile  as  a  child 
in  her  hands  wherever  matters  of  that  kind  were  concerned. 

Her  brother  wintered  at  Welland;  but  whether  because 
his  experience  of  tropic  climes  had  unfitted  him  for  the 
brumal  rigors  of  Britain,  or  for  any  other  reason,  he  sel- 
dom showed  himself  out-of-doors,  and  Swithin  caught  but 
passing  glimpses  of  him.  Now  and  then,  Viviette's  im- 
pulsive kindness  would  overcome  her  sense  of  risk,  and 
she  would  press  Swithin  to  call  on  her,  at  all  cost.  This 
he  would  by  no  means  do.  It  was  obvious  to  his  more 
logical  mind  that  the  secrecy  to  which  they  had  bound 
themselves  must  be  kept  in  its  fullness,  or  might  as  well 
be  abandoned  altogether. 

He  was  now  sadly  exercised  on  the  subject  of  his  uncle's 
m\\.  There  had  as  yet  been  no  pressing  reasons  for  a  full 
and  candid  reply  to  the  solicitor  who  had  communicated 


196  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

with  him,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  annuity  was  not  to 
begin  til!  Swithin  was  one  and  twenty;  but  time  was  going 
on,  and  something  definite  would  have  to  be  done  soon. 
To  own  to  his  marriage  and  consequent  disqualification 
for  the  bequest  was  easy  in  itself;  but  it  involved  telling 
at  least  one  man  what  both  Viviette  and  himself  had  great 
reluctance  in  telling  anybody.  Moreover,  he  wished  Vivi- 
ette to  know  nothing  of  his  loss  in  making  her  his  wife. 
All  he  could  think  of  doing  for  the  present  was  to  write 
a  postponing  letter  to  his  uncle's  lawyer,  and  wait  events. 
The  one  comfort  of  this  dreary  winter-time  was  his  per- 
ception of  a  returning  ability  to  work  with  the  regularity 
antl  much  of  the  spirit  of  earlier  days. 

One  bright  night  in  April  there  was  an  eclipse  of  the 
moon,  and  ]Mr.  Torkingham,  by  arrangement,  brought 
to  the  observatory  several  laboring  men  and  boys,  to  whom 
he  had  promised  a  sight  of  the  phenomenon  through  the 
telescope.  The  coming  confirmation,  fixed  for  May,  was 
again  talked  of;  and  St.  Cleeve  learned  from  the  parson 
that  the  Bishop  had  arranged  to  stay  the  night  at  the 
vicarage,  and  was  to  be  invited  to  a  grand  luncheon  at 
Welland  House  immediately  after  the  ordinance. 

This  seemed  like  a  going  back  into  life  again  as  re- 
garded the  mistre.ss  of  that  house;  and  St.  Cleeve  was  a 
little  surprised  that,  in  his  communications  with  Viviette, 
she  had  mentioned  no  such  probability.  The  next  day 
he  walked  round  the  mansion,  wondering  how  in  its 
present  state  any  entertainment  could  be  given  therein. 

He  found  that  the  shutters  had  been  opened,  which 
had  restored  ar^  unexpected  liveliness  to  the  aspect  of 


TPVO    ON  A    TOWER.  1 97 

the  windows.  Two  men  were  putting  a  chimney-pot  on 
one  of  the  chimney-stacks,  and  two  more  were  scraping 
green  mold  from  the  front  wall.  He  made  no  inquiries 
on  that  occasion.  Three  days  later  he  strolled  thitherward 
again.  Now  a  great  cleaning  of  window-panes  was  going 
on,  Hezzy  Biles  and  Sammy  Blore  being  the  operators, 
for  which  purpose  their  services  must  have  been  borrowed 
from  the  neighboring  farmer.  Hezzy  dashed  water  at  the 
glass  with  a  force  that  threatened  to  break  it  in,  the  broad 
face  of  Sammy  being  discernible  inside,  wrinkling  at  the 
onset.  In  addition  to  them,  Anthony  Green  and  another 
were  weeding  the  gravel  walks,  and  putting  fresh  plants 
into  the  flower  beds.  Neither  of  these  reasonable  opera- 
tions was  a  great  undertaking,  singly  looked  at;  but  the 
life  Viviettc  had  latterly  led  and  the  mood  in  which  she  had 
hitherto  regarded  the  premises  rendered  it  somewhat  sig- 
nificant. Swithin,  however,  was  rather  curious  than  con- 
cerned at  the  proceedings,  and  returned  to  his  tower  with 
feelings  of  interest  not  entirely  confined  to  the  worlds 
overhead. 

Lady  Constantine  may  or  may  not  have  seen  him  from 
the  house;  but  the  same  evening,  which  was  fine  and  dry, 
while  he  was  occupying  himself  in  the  observatory  with 
cleaning  the  eye-pieces  of  the  equatorial,  skull-cap  on 
head,  observing-jacket  on,  and  in  other  ways  primed  for 
sweeping,  the  customary  stealthy  step  on  the  winding 
staircase  brought  her  form  in  due  course  into  the  rays  of 
the  bull's-eye  lantern.  The  meeting  was  all  the  more 
pleasant  to  him  horn  being  unexpected,  and  he  at  once 
lit  up  a  larger  candle  in  honor  of  the  occasion. 

"It  is  but  a  hasty  visit,"  she  said,  when,  after  putting 


198  TJVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

up  her  mouth  to  be  kissed,  she  had  seated  herself  in  the 
low  chair  used  for  observations,  panting  a  little  with  the 
labor  of  ascent.  "But  I  hope  to  be  able  to  come  more 
freely  soon.  My  brother  is  still  living  on  with  me.  Yes, 
he  is  going  to  stay  until  the  confirmation  is  over.  After 
the  confirmation  he  will  certainly  leave.  So  good  it  is 
of  you,  dear,  to  please  me  by  agreeing  to  the  ceremony. 
The  Bishop,  you  know,  is  going  to  lunch  with  us.  It 
is  a  wonder  he  has  agreed  to  come,  for  he  is  a  man  averse 
to  society,  and  mostly  keeps  entirely  with  the  clergy  on 
these  confirmation  tours,  or  circuits,  or  whatever  they  call 
them.  But  Mr.  Torkingham's  house  is  so  very  small, 
and  mine  is  so  close  at  hand,  that  this  arrangement  to 
relieve  him  of  the  fuss  of  one  meal,  at  least,  naturally 
suggested  itself;  and  the  Bishop  has  fallen  in  with  it  very 
readily.  How  are  you  getting  on  with  your  observations .? 
Have  you  not  wanted  me  dreadfully,  to  write  down  notes  .^ " 

"Well,  I  have  been  obliged  to  do  without  you,  whether 
or  no.  See  here, — how  much  I  have  done."  And  he 
showed  her  a  book  ruled  in  columns,  headed  "Object," 
"Right  Ascension,"  "Declination,"  "Features,"  "Re- 
marks," and  so  on. 

She  looked  over  this  and  other  things,  but  her  mind 
speedily  winged  its  way  back  to  the  confirmation.  "It 
is  so  new  to  me,"  she  said,  "to  have  persons  coming  to 
the  house  that  I  feel  rather  anxious.  I  hope  the  lunch- 
eon will  be  a  success. " 

"You  know  the  Bishop } "  said  Swithin. 

"I  have  not  seen  him  for  many  years.  I  knew  him 
when  I  was  quite  a  girl,  and  he  held  the  litde  living  of 
Puddle-sub-lNIixenj  near  us;  but  after  that  time,  and  ever 


TWO    ON  A     TOWER.  1 99 

svice  I  have  lived  here,  I  have  seen  nothing  of  him. 
There  has  been  no  confirmation  in  this  village,  they  say, 
for  twenty  years.  The  other  bishop  used  to  make  the 
young  men  and  women  go  to  Warborne;  he  wouldn't  take 
t^je  trouble  to  come  to  such  an  out-of-the-way  parish  as 
ours. " 

"This  cleaning  and  preparation  that  I  obser\'e  going 
on  must  be  rather  a  tax  upon  you  .'  " 

"My  brother  Louis  sees  to  it,  and,  what  is  more,  bears 
the  expense. " 

"Your  brother.'  "  said  Swithin,  with  surprise. 

"Well,  he  insisted  on  doing  so,"  she  replied,  in  a 
hesitating,  despondent  tone.  "He  has  been  active  in 
the  whole  matter,  and  was  the  first  to  suggest  the  invita- 
tion.     I  should  not  have  thought  of  it." 

"Well,  I  will  hold  aloof  till  it  is  all  over." 

"Thanks,  dearest,  for  your  considerateness.  I  w^ish 
it  was  not  still  advisable '  But  I  shall  see  you  on  the 
day,  and  watch  my  own  philosopher  all  through  the  ser- 
vice from  the  corner  of  my  pew !  .  .  .  I  hope  you  are 
well  prepared  for  the  rite,  Swithin .' "  she  added,  turning 
tenderly  to  him.  "It  would  perhaps  be  advisable  for 
you  to  give  up  this  astronomy  till  the  confirmation  is 
over,  in  order  to  devote  your  attention  exclusively  to  that 
more  serious  matter." 

"More  serious!  Well,  I  will  do  the  best  I  can.  I 
am  sorry  to  see  that  you  are  less  interested  in  astronomy 
than  you  used  to  be,  Viviette. " 

"No;  it  is  only  that  these  preparations  for  the  Bishop 
unsettle  my  mind  from  study.  Now  put  on  your  othec 
todt  and  hat,  and  come  with  me  a.  little  way." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

npHE  morning  of  the  confirmation  was  come.  It  was 
-*■  mid-iNIay  time,  bringing  with  it  weather  not,  per- 
haps, quite  so  blooming  as  that  assumed  to  be  natural 
to  the  month  by  the  joyous  poets  of  three  hundred  years 
ago;  but  a  very  tolerable,  well-wearing  May,  that  the 
average  rustic  would  willingly  compound  for  in  lieu  of 
Mays  occasionally  fairer,  but  usually  more  foul. 

Among  the  larger  shrubs  and  flowers  which  composed 
the  outworks  of  the  Welland  gardens,  the  lilac,  the  labur- 
num, and  the  guelder-rc>se  hung  out  their  respective 
colors  of  purple,  yellow,  and  white;  whilst  within  these, 
belted  round  from  every  disturbing  gale,  rose  the  colum- 
bine, the  peony,  the  larkspur,  and  the  Solomon's  seal. 
The  animate  things  that  moved  amid  this  scene  of  color 
were  plodding  bees,  gadding  butterflies,  and  numerous 
sauntering  young  feminine  candidates  for  the  impending 
confirmation,  who,  having  gayly  bedecked  themselves  for 
the  ceremony,  were  enjoying  their  own  appearance  by 
walking  about  in  twos  and  threes  till  it  was  time  to  start. 

Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  whose  preparations  were  somewhat 
simpler  than   those  of  the  village  belles,  waited  till   his 


TfVO    ON  A     TOWER.  201 

grandmother  and  Hannah  had  set  out,  and  then,  locking 
the  door,  followed  towards  the  distant  church.  On  reach- 
ing the  churchyard  gate  he  met  Mr.  Torkingham,  who 
shook  hands  with  him  in  the  manner  of  a  man  with 
several  irons  in  the  fire,  and  telling  Swithin  where  to  sit, 
disappeared  to  hunt  up  some  candidates  who  had  not  yet 
made  themselves  visible. 

Casting  his  eyes  round  for  Viviette,  and  seeing  nothing 
of  her,  Swithin  went  on  to  the  church  porch,  and  looked 
in.  From  the  north  side  of  the  nave  smiled  a  host  of 
girls,  gayly  uniform  in  dress,  age,  and  a  temporary  re- 
pression of  their  natural  tendency  to  "skip  like  a  hare 
over  the  meshes  of  good  counsel."'  Their  white  muslin 
dresses,  their  round  white  caps,  from  beneath  whose  bor- 
ders hair-knots  and  curls,  of  various  shades  of  brown, 
escaped  upon  their  low  shoulders,  as  if  against  their  will, 
lighted  up  the  black  pews  and  gray  stonework  to  an 
unwonted  w^armth  and  life.  On  the  south  side  were  the 
young  men  and  boys, — heavy,  angular,  and  massive,  as 
indeed  was  rather  necessary,  considering  what  they  would 
have  to  bear  at  the  hands  of  wind  and  weather  before  they 
returned  to  that  moldy  nave  for  the  last  time. 

Over  the  heads  of  all  these  he  could  see  into  the 
chancel,  to  the  square  pew  on  the  north  side,  which  was 
attached  to  Welland  House.  There  he  discerned  Ladv 
Constantine  already  arrived,  her  brother  Louis  sitting  by 
her  side. 

Swithin  entered,  and  seated  himself  at  the  end  of  a 
bench,  and  she,  who  had  been  on  the  watch,  at  once 
showed,  by  subtle  signs,  her  consciousness  of  the  pres- 
ence of  the  young  man  who  had  reversed  the  ordained 


202  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

sequence  of  the  church  services  on  her  account.  She 
appeared  in  black  attire,  though  not  strictly  in  mourning, 
a  touch  of  red  in  her  bonnet  setting  off  the  richness  of 
her  complexion  without  making  her  gay.  Handsomest 
woman  in  the  church  she  decidedly  was;  and  yet  a  dis- 
interested spectator  who  had  known  all  the  circumstances 
would  probably  have  felt  that,  the  future  considered, 
Swithin's  more  natural  mate  would  have  been  one  of  the 
muslin-clad  maidens  who  were  to  be  presented  to  the 
Bishop  with  him  that  day. 

When  the  Bishop  had  come,  and  gone  into  the  chan- 
cel, and  blown  his  nose,  the  congregation  were  suffi- 
ciently impressed  by  his  presence  to  leave  off  looking  lU 
one  another. 

Twenty  years,  people  said,  had  elapsed  since  a  bishop 
had  sat  in  that  humble  and  remote  house  of  prayer. 
The  Right  Reverend  Cuthbert  Helmsdale,  D.  D. ,  ninety- 
fourth  occupant  of  the  episcopal  throne  of  the  diocese, 
revealed  himself  to  be  a  dark  man  in  skin  as  well  as  hair, 
whose  darkness  was  thrown  still  further  into  prominence 
by  the  lawn  protuberances  that  now  rose  upon  his  shoul- 
ders, like  the  Eastern  and  Western  hemispheres.  In 
stature  he  seemed  to  be  tall  and  imposing,  but  some- 
thing of  this  aspect  may  have  been  derived  from  his  robes. 

The  service  was,  as  usual,  of  a  length  which  severely 
tried  the  tariying  powers  of  the  young  people  assembled; 
and  it  was  not  till  the  youth  of  all  the  other  parishes  had 
gone  up  that  the  turn  came  for  the  Welland  bevy.  Swith- 
in  and  some  older  ones  were  nearlv  the  last.  When,  at 
the  heels  of  Mr.  Torkingham,  he  passed  Lady  Constan- 
tine's  pew,  1\q  liftced  hj^  eyes  from,  the  red  lining  of  tha.t 


o 


ttVO    ON  A    TOWER.  iOj 

gentleman's  hood  sufficiently  high  to  catch  hers.  She  was 
abstracted,  tearful, — regarding  liim  with  all  the  rapt  ming- 
ling of  religion,  love,  fervor,  and  hope  which  such  women 
can  feel  at  such  times,  and  which  men  know  nothing  of. 
How  fervently  she  watched  the  Bishop  place  his  hand  on 
her  beloved  youth's  head;  how  she  saw  the  great  episcopal 
ring  glistening  in  the  sun  among  Swithin's  brown  curls; 
how  she  waited  to  hear  if  Dr.  Helmsdale  uttered  the  form 
"this  thy  child"  (which  he  used  for  the  younger  ones), 
or  "this  thy  servant'"  (which  he  used  for  those  older);  and 
how,  when  he  said  "this  thy  child"  she  felt  a  prick  of'con- 
science,  like  a  person  who  had  entrapped  an  innocent 
youth  into  marriage,  for  her  own  gratification,  till  she  re- 
membered that  she  had  raised  his  social  position  thereby, 
—all  this  could  only  have  been  told  in  its  entirety  by  herself. 

As  for  Swithin,  he  felt  ashamed  of  his  own  utter  lack  of 
the  high  enthusiasm  which  beamed  so  eloquently  from  her 
eves.  When  he  passed  her  again,  on  the  return  journey 
from  the  Bishop  to  his  seat,  her  face  was  warm  with  a  blush, 
which  her  brother  might  have  observed  had  he  regarded  her. 

Whether  he  had  observed  it  or  not,  as  soon  as  St.  Cleeve 
had  sat  himself  down  again,  Louis  Glanville  turned,  and 
looked  hard  at  the  young  astronomer.  This  was  the  first 
time  that  St.  Clteve  and  Viviette's  brother  had  been  face 
to  face  in  a  distinct  light,  their  first  meeting  having  oc- 
curred in  the  dusk  of  a  railway-station.  Swithin  was  not 
in  the  habit  of  noticing  people's  features;  he  scarcely  ever 
observed  any  detail  of  physiognomy  in  his  friends,  a  gen- 
eralization from  their  whole  aspect  forming  his  idea  of 
them;  and  he  mnv  only  noted  a  young  man  of  perhaps 
thirtv,  who  lolled  a  good  deal,  and  in  whose  small  dark 


204  TM^O    ON  A    TOWER. 

•  eyes  seemed  to  be  concentrated  the  activity  that  the  rest  of 
his  frame  decidedly  lacked.  This  gentleman's  eyes  were 
henceforward,  to  the  end  of  the  service,  continually  fixed 
upon  Swithin;  but  as  this  was  their  natural  direction,  from 
the  position  of  his  seat,  there  was  no  great  strangeness  in 
the  circumstance. 

Swithin  wanted  to  say  to  Viviette,  "Now  I  hope  you 
are  pleased;  I  have  conformed  to  your  ideas  of  my  duty, 
leaving  my  fitness  out  of  consideration;  "  but  as  he  could 
only  see  her  bonnet  and  forehead,  it  was  not  possible  even 
to  look  the  intelligence.  He  turned  to  his  left  hand,  where 
the  organ  stood,  with  Miss  Tabitha  Lark  seated  behind  it. 

It  being  now  sermon-time,  the  youthful  blower  had  fallen 
asleep  over  the  handle  of  his  bellows,  and  Tabitha  pulled 
out  her  handkerchief,  apparently  with  the  intention  of 
flapping  him  awake  with  it.  With  the  handkerchief  tum- 
bled out  a  whole  family  of  unexpected  articles:  a  silver 
thimble;  item,  a  photograph;  item,  a  little  purse;  item,  a 
scent-bottle;  item,  some  loose  halfpence;  item,  nine  green 
gooseberries;  item,  a  key.  They  rolled  to  Swithin's  feet, 
and,  passively  obeying  the  first  instinct  which  came,  he 
picked  up  as  many  of  the  articles  as  he  could  find,  and 
handed  them  to  her  amid  the  smiles  of  the  neighbors. 

Tabitha  was  so  overpowered  at  such  a  humiliating  event 
happening  to  her  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  Bishop,  on 
this  her  glorious  day,  that  she  turned  pale  as  a  sheet,  and 
could  hardly  keep  her  seat.  Fearing  she  might  faint, 
Swithin,  who  had  genuinely  sympathized,  bent  over  and 
whispered,  encouragingly:  "Don't  mind  it,  Tabitha. 
Shall  I  take  you  out  into  the  air.^"  She  declined  his 
offer,  and  presently  the  sermon  Ciime  to  an  end. 


TPf^O    ON  A    TOWER.  iO% 

Swithin  lingered  behind  the  rest  of  tlie  congregation 
sufficiently  long  to  see  Lady  Constantine,  accompanied  by 
her  brother,  the  Bishop,  the  Bishop's  chaplain,  Mr.  Tork- 
ingham,  and  several  other  clergy  and  ladies,  enter  to  the 
grand  luncheon  by  the  door  which  admitted  from  the 
churchyard  to  the  lawn  of  Welland  House;  the  whole 
group  talking  with  a  vivacity  all  the  more  intense,  as  it 
seemed,  from  the  recent  two  hours'  enforced  repression  of 
their  social  qualities  within  the  adjoining  building. 

The  young  man  stood  till  he  was  left  quite  alone  in  the 
churchyard,  and  then  went  slowly  homeward  over  the  hill, 
perhaps  a  trifle  depressed  at  the  impossibility  of  being  near 
Viviette  in  this  her  one  day  of  gayety,  and  joining  in  the 
conversation  of  those  who  surrounded  her. 

Not  that  he  felt  any  jealousy  of  her  situation,  as  his  wife, 
in  comparison  with  his  own.  He  had  so  clearly  under- 
stood from  the  beginning  that,  in  the  event  of  marriage, 
their  outward  lives  were  to  run  on  as  before,  that  to  rebel 
now  would  have  been  unmanly  in  himself  and  cruel  to  her, 
by  adding  to  embarrassments  that  were  great  enough  al- 
ready. His  momentary  doubt  was  of  his  own  strength  to 
achieve  sufficiently  high  things  to  render  himself,  in  rela- 
tion to  her,  other  than  a  patronized  young  favorite,  whom 
she  had  married  at  an  immense  sacrifice  of  position.  Now, 
at  twenty,  he  was  doomed  to  isolation  even  from  a  wife; 
could  it  be  that  at,  say,  thirty  he  would  be  welcomed  ev- 
erywhere ' 

But  with  motion  through  the  sun  and  air  his  mood  as- 
sumed a  lighter  complexion,  and  on  reaching  home  he  re- 
membered with  interest  that  Venus  was  in  a  favorable  aspect 
for  observation  that  afternoon. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

TV /TEANWHILE,  the  interior  of  Welland  House  was 
-^*-^  in  a  rattle  with  the  progress  of  the  ecclesiastical 
luncheon. 

The  Bishop,  who  sat  on  Lady  Constantine's  right  hand, 
seemed  enchanted  with  her  company,  and  from  the  begin- 
ning she  engrossed  his  attention  almost  entirely.  The 
truth  was  that  the  circumstance  of  her  not  having  her  whole 
soul  centered  on  the  success  of  the  repast  and  the  pleasure 
of  Bishop  Helmsdale  imparted  to  her,  in  a  great  measure, 
the  mood  to  insure  both.  Her  brother  Louis  it  was  who 
had  laid  out  the  plan  of  entertaining  the  Bishop,  to  which 
she  had  assented  but  indifferently.  She  was  secretly  bound 
to  another,  on  whose  career  she  had  staked  all  her  happi- 
ness. Having  thus  other  interests,  she  evinced  to-day  all 
the  ease  of  one  who  hazards  nothing,  and  there  was  no  sign 
of  that  preoccupation  with  housewifely  contingencies  which 
often  so  disfigures  the  not  over-rich  hostess  that  she  is 
hardly  recognizable  as  the  same  charming  woman  who 
graced  a  friend's  home  the  day  before.  In  marrying  Swith- 
in,  Lady  Constantine  had  played  her  card, — recklessly,  im- 
pulsively,  ruinously,   perhaps;  but  she  had   played   it;   it 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  207 

could  not  be  withdrawn;  and  she  took  this  morning's 
luncheon  as  an  episode  that  could  result  in  nothing  to  her 
beyond  the  day's  entertainment. 

Hence,  by  that  power  of  indirectness  to  accomplish  in 
an  hour  what  strenuous  aiming  will  not  effect  in  a  life- 
time, she  fascinated  the  Bishop  to  an  unprecedented  de- 
gree. A  bachelor,  he  rejoiced  in  the  hard-headed  period 
of  life  that  fills  the  tract  of  years  between  the  time  of  wan- 
ing impulse  and  the  time  of  incipient  dotage,  when  a  wo- 
man can  reach  the  male  heart  neither  by  awakening  a 
young  man's  passion  nor  an  old  man's  infatuation.  He 
must  be  made  to  admire,  or  he  can  be  made  to  do  nothing. 
Unintentionally  that  is  how  Viviette  operated  on  her  guest. 

Lady  Constantine,  to  external  view,  was  in  a  position  to 
desire  many  things,  and  of  a  sort  to  desire  them.  She 
was  obviously,  by  nature,  warm  and  impulsive  to  indis- 
cretion. But  instead  of  exhibiting  activities  to  correspond, 
recently  gratified  aft'ection  lent  to  her  manner  just  now  a 
sweet  serenity,  a  truly  Christian  contentment,  which  it 
puzzled  the  learned  Bishop  exceedingly  to  find  in  a  warm 
young  widow,  and  increased  his  interest  in  her  every  mo- 
ment Thus  matters  stood,  when  the  conversation  veered 
round  to  the  morning's  confirmation. 

"That  was  a  singularly  engaging  young  man  who  came 
up  among  Mr.  Torkingham's  candidates,"  said  the  Bishop 
to  her,   somewhat  abruptly. 

But  abruptness  does  not  catch  a  woman  without  her  wit. 
"Which  one.?"  she  said  innocently. 

"That  youth  with  the  'corn-colored'  hair,  as  a  poet  of 
the  new  school  would  call  it,  who  sat  just  at  the  side  of 
the  organ.      Do  you  know  who  he  is  ?  " 


2o8  TPFO    ON  A    TOWER. 

In  answering  Viviette  showed  a  little  nervousness,  for 
the  first  time  that  day. 

"  Oh,  yes.  He  is  the  son  of  an  unfortunate  gentleman 
who  was  formerly  curate  here, — a  Mr.   St.   Cleeve. " 

"I  never  saw  a  handsomer  young  man  in  my  life." 
(Lady  Constantine  blushed.)  "There  was  a  lack  of  self- 
consciousness,  too,  in  his  manner  of  presenting  himself, 
which  very  much  won  me.  A  Mr.  St.  Cleeve,  do  you 
say.?  A  curate's  son?  His  father  must  have  been  St. 
Cleeve  ol  All  Angels,  whom  I  knew.  How  comes  he  to 
be  staying  on  here }     What  is  he  doing .''  " 

Mr.  Torkingham,  who  kept  one  ear  on  the  Bishop  all 
the  lunch-time,  finding  that  Lady  Constantine  was  not  ready 
with  an  answer,  hastened  to  reply:  "His  father  was  an  All 
Angels  man,  my  lord.     The  youth  is  rather  to  be  pitied." 

"  He  was  a  man  of  talent,"  affirmed  the  Bishop.  "  But 
I  quite  lost  sight  of  him." 

"  He  was  curate  to  the  late  vicar,"  resumed  the  parson, 
"and  was  much  liked  by  the  parish:  but,  being  erratic  in 
his  tastes  and  tendencies,  he  rashly  contracted  a  marriage 
with  the  daughter  of  a  farmer,  and  then  quarreled  with  the 
local  gentry  for  not  taking  up  his  wife.  This  lad  was  an 
only  child.  There  was  enough  money  to  educate  him, 
and  he  is  sufficiently  well  provided  for  to  be  independent  of 
the  world,  so  long  as  he  is  content  to  live  here  with  great 
eccmomy.  But  of  course  this  gives  him  few  opportunides 
of  bettering  himself" 

"Yes,  naturally,"  replied  Bishop  Helmsdale.  "Better 
nave  been  left  entirely  dependent  on  himself  These  half 
incomes  do  men  little  good,  unless  they  happen  to  be 
either  weaklings  or  geniuses." 


nVO    ON-  A    TOWER.  209 

Lady  Constantine  would  have  given  the  world  to  say, 
"  He  is  a  genius,  and  the  hope  of  my  life;  "  but  it  would 
have  been  decidedly  risky,  and  in  another  moment  was 
unnecessary,  for  Mr.  Torkingham  said,  "There  is  a  cer- 
tain genius  in  this  young  man,    I  sometimes  think." 

"Well,  he  really  looks  quite  out  of  the  common,"  said 
the  Bishop. 

' '  Youthful  genius  is  sometimes  disappointing, "  observed 
Viviette,   not  believing  it  in  the  least. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Bishop.  "Though  it  depends.  Lady 
Constantine,  on  what  you  understand  by  disappointing. 
It  may  produce  nothing  visible  to  the  world's  eye,  and  yet 
may  complete  its  development  within  inavery  perfect  degree. 
Objective  achievements,  though  the  only  ones  which  are 
counted,  are  not  the  only  ones  that  exist  and  have  value; 
and  I  for  one  should  be  sorry  to  assert  that,  because  a  man 
of  genius  dies  as  unknown  to  the  world  as  when  he  was 
born,    he  therefore  was  an  instance  of  wasted  material." 

Objective  achievements  were,  however,  those  that  Lady 
Constantine  had  a  weakness  for  in  the  present  case,  and 
she  asked  her  more  experienced  guest  if  he  thought  early 
development  of  a  special  talent  a  good  sign  in  youth. 

The  Bishop  thought  it  well  that  a  particular  bent  should 
not  show  itself  too  early,    lest  disgust  should  result. 

"  Still,"  argued  Lady  Constantine  rather  firmly  (for  she 
felt  this  opinion  of  the  Bishop's  to  be  one  throwing  doubt 
on  Swithin),  "sustained  fruition  is  compatible  with  early 
bias.  Tycho  Brahe  showed  quite  a  passion  for  the  solar 
system  when  he  was  but  a  youth,  and  so  did  Kepler  and 
James  Ferguson  had  a  surprising  knowledge  of  the  stars  "by 
the  time  he  was  eleven  or  twelve." 


2IO  TWO    ON"  A    TOWER. 

"Yes,  sustained  fruition,"  conceded  the  Bishop  (rathei 
liking  the  words),  "is  certainly  compatible  with  early  bias, 
Fenelon  preached  at  fourteen." 

"  He — Mr.  St.  Cleeve — is  not  in  the  church,"  said  Lad) 
Constantine. 

"He  is  a  scientific  young  man,  my  lord,"  explained 
Mr.  Torkingham. 

"An  astronomer,"  she  added,   with  suppressed  pride. 

"  An  astronomer .'  Really,  that  makes  him  still  more 
interesting  than  being  handsome  and  the  son  of  a  man  I 
knew.      How  and  where  does  he  study  astronomy }  " 

"He  has  a  beautiful  observatory.  He  has  made  use 
of  an  old  column  that  was  erected  on  this  manor  to  the 
memory  of  one  of  the  Constantines.  It  has  been  very  in- 
geniously adapted  for  his  purpose,  and  he  does  very  good 
work  there.  I  believe  he  occasionally  sends  up  a  paper 
to  the  Royal  Society,  or  Greenwich,  or  somewhere,  and  to 
astronomical  periodicals. " 

"  I  should  have  had  no  idea,  from  his  boyish  look,  that 
he  had  advanced  so  far,"  the  Bishop  answered.  "And  yet 
I  saw  on  his  face  that  within  there  was  a  book  worth  study- 
ing.     His  is  a  career  I  should  very  much  like  to  watch." 

A  thrill  of  pleasure  passed  through  Lady  Constantines 
heart  at  this  praise  of  her  chosen  one.  It  was  an  unwitting 
compliment  to  her  taste  and  discernment  in  singling  him 
out  for  her  own,   despite  its  temporary  inexpediency. 

Her  brother  Louis  now  spoke.  "  I  fancy  he  is  as  inter- 
ested in  one  of  his  fellow-creatures  as  in  the  science  of  as- 
tronomy," observed  that  cynic  dryly. 

"In  whom .? "  said  Lady  Constantine  quickly. 

"In  the  fair  maiden  who  sat  at  the  organ, — a  prettv 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  211 

girl,  rather.  I  noticed  a  sort  of  by-play  going  on  between 
them  occasionally,  during  the  sermon,  which  meant  mat- 
ing,  if  I  am  not  mistaken." 

"  She  !  "  said  Lady  Constantine.  * '  She  is  only  a  village 
girl,  a  dairy-man's  daughter, — Tabitha  Lark,  who  used 
to  come  to  read  to  me." 

"She  may  be  a  savage,  for  all  I  know:  but  there  is  some- 
thing between  those  two  young  people,    nevertheless." 

The  Bishop  looked  as  if  he  had  allowed  his  interest  in 
a  stranger  to  carry  him  too  far,  and  Mr.  Torkingham  was 
horrified  at  the  irreverent  and  easy  familiarity  of  Louis 
Glanville's  talk  in  the  presence  of  a  consecrated  bishop. 
As  for  Viviette,  her  tongue  lost  all  its  volubility.  She  felt 
quite  faint  at  heart,  and  hardly  knew  how  to  control  herself 

"I  have  never  noticed  anything  of  the  sort,"  said  Mr. 
Torkingham. 

"  It  would  be  a  matter  for  regret,"  said  the  Bishop,  "if 
he  should  follow  his  father  in  forming  an  attachment  that 
would  be  a  hindrance  to  him  in  any  honorable  career; 
though  perhaps  an  early  marriage,  abstractedly  considered, 
would  not  be  bad  for  him.  A  youth  who  looks  as  if  he 
had  come  straight  from  old  Greece  may  be  exposed  to 
many  temptations,  should  he  go  out  into  the  world  with- 
out a  friend  or  counselor  to  guide  him." 

Despite  her  sudden  jealousy,  Viviette's  eyes  grew  moist 
at  the  picture  of  her  innocent  Swithin  going  into  the  world 
without  a  friend  or  counselor.  But  she  was  sick  in  soul 
and  disquieted  still  by  Louis's  dreadful  remarks,  who,  un- 
believer as  he  was  in  human  virtue,  could  have  no  reason 
whatever  for  representing  Swithin  as  engaged  in  a  private 
love  affair,  if  such  were  not  his  honest  impression. 


212  TM^O    ON  A     TOWER. 

She  was  so  absorbed  during  the  remainder  of  the  lunch- 
eon that  she  did  not  even  observe  the  kindly  Hght  that  her 
presence  was  shedding  on  the  right  reverend  gentleman  by 
her  side.  He  reflected  it  back  in  tones  duly  mellowed  by 
his  position;  the  minor  clergy  caught  up  the  rays  thereof, 
and  so  the  gentle  influence  played  down  the  table.  The 
company  so;)n  departed,  when  luncheon  was  over;  and  the 
remainder  of  the  day  passed  in  quietness,  the  Bishop  being 
occupied  in  his  room  at  the  vicarage  with  writing  letters 
or  a  sermon.  Having  a  long  journey  before  him  the 
next  day,  he  had  expressed  a  wish  to  be  housed  for  the 
night  without  ceremony,  and  would  have  dined  alone  with 
Mr.  Torkingham,  but  that,  by  a  happy  thought,  Lady 
Constantine  and  her  brother  were  asked  to  join  them. 

However,  when  Louis  crossed  the  churchyard  and 
entered  the  vicarage  drawing-room  at  seven  o'clock,  his 
sister  was  not  in  his  cofnpany.  She  was,  he  said,  suffer- 
ing from  a  slight  headache,  and  much  regretted  that  she 
was  on  that  account  unable  to  come.  At  this  intelligence 
^he  social  sparkle  disappeared  from  the  Bishop's  eye,  and 
Te  sat  down  to  table,  endeavoring  to  mold  into  the  form 
Df  episco])al  serenity  an  expression  which  was  really  one 
of  common  human  disappointment. 

In  his  simple  statement  Louis  Glanville  had  by  no  means 
expressed  all  the  circumstances  which  accompanied  his  sis- 
ter's refusal,  at  the  last  moment,  to  dine  at  her  neighbor's 
house.  Louis  had  strongly  urged  her  to  bear  up  against 
her  slight  indisposition, — if  it  were  that,  and  not  disincli- 
nation,— and  come  along  with  him  on  just  this  one  occa- 
sion, perhaps  a  more  important  episode  in  her  life  than 
she  was  aware  of     Viviette  thereupon   knew  quite  well 


Tiro    ON   A     TOWER.  213 

that  he  alluded  to  the  favoiable  impression  she  was  pro- 
ducing on  the  Bishop,  notwithstanding  that  neither  of 
them  mentioned  the  Bishop's  name.  But  she  did  not 
give  way,  though  the  argument  waxed  strong  between 
them;  and  Louis  left  her  in  no  very  amiable  mood,  say- 
ing, "  I  don't  believe  you  have  any  more  headache  than 
I  have,  Viviette.  It  is  some  provoking  whim  of  yours, — 
nothing  more." 

Now  in  this  there  was  a  substratum  of  truth.  When 
her  brother  had  left  her,  and  she  had  seen  him  from  the 
window  entering  the  vicarage  gate,  Viviette  seemed  to  be 
much  relieved,  and  sat  down  in  her  dressing-room  til! 
the  evening  grew  dark,  and  only  the  lights  shining  through 
the  trees  from  the  i)arsonage  dining-room  revealed  to  the 
eve  where  thai  il welling  stood.  Then  she  arose,  and  put- 
dng  on  the  cloak  she  had  used  so  many  times  before  for 
the  same  purpose,  she  locked  her  bedroom  door  (to  be 
supposed  within,  in  case  of  the  accidental  approach  of  a 
servant),  and  let  herself  privately  out  of  the  house. 

Lady  Constantine  paused  for  a  moment  under  the  vicar- 
age windows,  till  she  could  sufficiently  well  hear  the  voices 
of  the  diners  to  be  sure  that  they  were  actually  within,  and 
then  went  on  her  way,  which  was  towards  the  Rings-Hill 
column.  She  appeared  a  mere  spot,  hardly  distinguisha- 
ble from  the  grass,  as  she  crossed  the  open  ground,  and 
soon  became  absorbed  in  the  black  mass  of  the  fir 
plantation. 

Meanwhile,  the  conversation  at  Mr.  Torkingham's  din- 
ner-table was  not  of  a  highly  exhilarating  quality.  The 
parson,  in  long  self-communing  during  the  afternoon,  had 
decided  that  the  D^^cesan  Synod,  whose  annual  session  at 


214  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

Melchester  had  occurred  in  the  month  previous,  would  af- 
ford a  solid  and  unimpeachable  subject  to  launch  dur- 
ing the  meal  whenever  conversation  flagged;  and  that  it 
would  be  one  likely  to  win  the  respect  of  his  spiritual 
chieftain  for  himself,  as  the  introducer.  Accordingly,  in 
the  further  belief  that  you  could  not  have  too  much  of  a 
good  thing,  Mr.  Torkingham  not  only  acted  upon  his 
idea,  but  at  every  pause  rallied  to  the  synod  point  with  un- 
broken firmness.  Everything  which  had  been  discussed 
at  that  last  session — such  as  the  introduction  of  the  lay 
element  into  the  councils  of  the  church,  the  reconstitution 
of  the  ecclesiastical  courts,  church  patronage,  the  tithe 
question — was  revived  by  Mr.  Torkingham,  and  the  ex- 
cellent remarks  which  the  Bishop  had  made  in  his  ad- 
dresses on  those  subjects  were  quoted  back  to  him. 

As  for  Bishop  Helmsdale  himself,  his  instincts  seemed  to 
be  to  allude  in  a  debonair  spirit  to  the  incidents  of  the  past 
day, — to  the  flowers  in  Lady  Constantine's  beds,  the  date 
of  her  house, — perhaps  with  a  view  of  hearing  a  little  more 
about  their  owner  from  Louis,  who  would  very  readily  have 
followed  the  Bishop's  lead,  had  the  parson  allowed  him 
room.  But  this  Mr.  Torkingham  seldom  did,  and  about 
half  past  nine  they  prepared  to  separate. 

Louis  Glanville  had  risen  from  the  table,  and  was  stand- 
ing by  the  window,  looking  out  upon  the  sky,  and  pri- 
\'ately  yawning,  the  topics  discussed  having  been  hardly  in 
his  line.      "A  fine  night,"  he  said  at  last. 

"I  suppose  our  young  astronomer  is  hard  at  work 
now,"  said  the  Bishop,  following  the  direction  of  Louis's 
glance  towards  the  clear  sky. 

"Yes,"  said  the  parson;   "he  is  very  assiduous  when- 


TPVO    ON  A     TOWER.  21 5 

ever  the  nights  are  good  for  observation.  I  have  occasion- 
ally joined  him  in  his  tower,  and  looked  through  his  tele- 
scope with  great  benefit  to  my  ideas  of  celestial  phenom- 
ena.     I  have  not  seen  what  he  has  been  doing  lately." 

''Suppose  we  go. -^  "  said  Louis.  "  Would  you  be  in- 
terested in  seeing  the  observatory,  Bishop  .-*  " 

"I  am  quite  willing  to  go,"  said  the  Bishop,  "  if  the 
distance  is  not  too  great.  I  should  not  be  at  all  averse  to 
making  the  acquaintance  of  so  exceptional  a  young  man 
as  this  Mr.  St.  Cleeve  seems  to  be;  and  I  have  never  seen 
the  inside  of  an  observatory  in  my  life. " 

The  intention  was  no  sooner  formed  than  it  was  carried 
out,  Mr,  Torkingham  leading  the  way. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

T  TALF  an  hour  before  this  time  Swithin  St.  Cleeve  had 
■*-  -*■  been  sitting  in  his  cabin,  at  the  base  of  the  column, 
workins:  out  some  calculations  from  observations  taken 
on  preceding  nights,  with  a  view  to  a  theory  that  he  had 
in  his  head  on  the  motions  of  certain  so-called  fixed  stars. 

The  evening  being  a  little  chilly,  a  small  fire  was  burn- 
ing in  the  stove,  and  this  and  the  shaded  lamp  before  him 
lent  a  remarkably  cosy  air  to  the  chamber.  He  was  awak- 
ened from  his  reveries  by  a  scratching  at  the  window-pane 
like  that  of  the  point  of  an  ivy  leaf,  which  he  knew  to  be 
really  caused  by  the  tip  of  his  sweetheart-wife's  fore-finger. 
He  rose  and  opened  the  door  to  admit  her,  not  without 
astonishment  as  to  how  she  had  been  able  to  get  away 
from  her  friends. 

' '  Dearest  Viv,  why,  what's  the  matter  '■!  "  he  said,  per- 
ceivmg  that  her  face,  as  the  lamplight  fell  on  it,  was  sad, 
and  even  stormy. 

"I  thought  I  would  run  across  to  see  you.  I  have 
heard  something  so — so — to  your  discredit  and  I  know  it 
can't  be  true  !  I  know  you  are  constancy  itself;  but  your 
constancy  produces  strange  effects  in  people's  eyes  I " 


TIVO    ON  A    rOWER.  217 

"  Good  heavens  !     Nobody  has  found  us  out. " 

"No,  no, — it  is  not  that.  You  know,  Swithin,  that  I 
am  always  sincere,  and  willing  to  own  if  I  am  to  blame  in 
anything.  Now  will  yjou  prove  to  me  that  you  are  the 
same  by  owning  some  feult  to  me  }  " 

"Yes,  dear,  indeed;  directly  I  can  think  of  one  worth 
owning." 

"I  wonder  one  does  not  rush  upon  your  tongue  in  a 
moment !  " 

"  I  confess  that  I  am  sufficiently  a  Pharisee  not  to  ex- 
perience that  spontaneity." 

"Swithin,  don't  speak  so  affectedly,  w^hen  you  know  so 
well  what  I  mean  !  Is  it  nothing  to  you  that,  after  all 
our  vows  for  life,  you  have  thought  it  right  to — flirt  with 
a  village  girl  ?  " 

"Oh,  Viviette  !  "  interrupted  Swithin,  taking  her  hand, 
which  was  hot  and  trembling.  "  You  who  are  full  of  no- 
ble and  generous  feelings,  and  regard  me  with  devoted 
tenderness  that  has  never  been  surpassed  by  woman, — 
how  can  you  be  so  greatly  at  fault.'*  /flirt,  Viviette.''  By 
thinking  that  you  injure  yourself  in  my  eyes.  Why,  I  am 
so  far  from  doing  so  that  1  continually  pull  myself  up  for 
watching  you  too  jealously,  as  to-day,  when  I  have  been 
dreading  the  effect  upon  you  of  other  company  in  my  ab- 
sence, and  thinking  that  you  rather  shut  the  gates  against 
me  when  you  have  big-wigs  to  entertain.  ' 

"Do  you,  Swithin.'"  she  cried.  It  was  evident  that  the 
honest  tone  of  his  words  was  having  a  great  effect  in  clear- 
ing away  the  clouds.  She  added,  with  an  uncertain  smile, 
"But  how  can  1  believe  that,  after  what  was  seen  to-day? 
Mv  brother,  not  knowing  in  the  least  that  I  had  an  iota  of 


?lS  Tl^^O    ON   A     TOWER. 

interest  in  y  3U,  told  me  that  he  witnessed  the  signs  jf  an 
attachment  between  you  and  Tabitha  Lark  in  church,  this 
morning." 

"Ah  I  "  cried  Swithin,  with  a  burst  of  laughter.  "Now 
I  know  what  you  mean,  and  what  has  caused  this  misun- 
derstanding !  How  good  of  you,  Viviette,  to  come  at  once 
and  have  it  out  with  me,  instead  of  brooding  over  it  with 
dark  imaginings,  and  thinking  bitter  things  of  me,  as  many 
women  would  have  done  !  "  He  succinctly  told  the  whole 
story  of  his  little  adventure  with  Tabitha  that  morning;  and 
the  sky  was  clear  on  both  sides.  "  When  shall  I  be  able 
to  claim  you,"  he  added,  "and  put  an  end  to  all  such  pain- 
ful accidents  as  these  !  " 

She  partially  sighed.  Her  perception  of  what  the  out- 
side world  was  made  of,  latterly  somewhat  obscured  by  sol- 
itude and  her  lover's  company,  had  been  revived  to-day  by 
her  entertainment  of  the  Bishop,  clerg)'men,  and,  more 
particularly,  clergymen's  wives;  and  it  did  not  diminish 
her  sense  of  the  difficulties  in  Swithin's  path  to  see  anew 
how  little  was  thought  of  the  greatest  gifts,  mental  and 
spiritual,  if  they  were  not  backed  up  by  substantial  tem- 
poralities. However,  the  pair  made  the  best  of  their  future 
that  circumstances  permitted,  and  the  interview  was  at  length 
drawing  to  a  close,  when  there  came,  without  the  slightest 
forewarning,  a  smart  rat-tat-tat  upon  the  little  door. 

' '  Oh,  I  am  lost !  "  said  Viviette,  seizing  his  arm.  ' '  Why 
was  I  so  incautious  !  " 

"It  is  nobody  of  consequence,"  whispered  Swithin  as- 
suringly,  "  Somebody  from  my  grandmother,  probably, 
to  know  when  I  am  coming  home. " 

They  were   unperceived   so  far,   for  the   only  window 


TH^O    ON  A    TOWER.  219 

which  gave  Hght  to  the  hut  was  screened  by  a  curtain. 
At  that  moment  they  heard  the  sound  of  their  visitors' 
voices,  and,  with  a  consternation  as  great  as  her  own, 
Swithin  discerned  the  tones  of  Mr.  Torkingham  and  the 
Bishop  of  Melchester. 

"  Where  shall  I  get .?  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  said  the  poor 
lady,  clasping  her  hands. 

Swithin  looked  around  the  cabin,  and  a  very  little  look 
was  required  to  take  in  all  its  resources.  At  one  end,  as 
previously  explained,  were  a  table,  stove,  chair,  cupboard, 
and  so  on;  while  the  other  was  completely  occupied  by  an 
Arabian  bedstead,  hung  with  curtains  of  pink-and-white 
chintz.  On  the  inside  of  the  bed  there  was  a  narrow  chan- 
nel, about  a  foot  wide,  between  it  and  the  wall  of  the  hut. 
Into  this  cramped  retreat  Viviette  slid  herself,  and  stood 
trembling  behind  the  curtains. 

By  this  time  the  knock  had  been  repeated  more  loudly, 
the  light  through  the  window-blind  unhappily  revealing 
the  presence  of  some  inmate.  Swithin  threw  open  the 
door,  and  Mr.  Torkingham  introduced  his  visitors. 

The  Bishop  shook  hands  with  the  young  man,  told  him 
he  had  known  his  father,  and  at  Swithin's  invitation,  weak 
as  it  was,  entered  the  cabin,  the  vicar  and  Louis  Glanville 
remaining  on  the  threshold,  not  to  inconveniently  crowd 
the  limited  space  within.  Bishop  Helmsdale  looked  be- 
nignantly  around  the  apartment,  and  said,  "Quite  a  set- 
tlement in  the  backwoods, — quite:  far  enough  from  the 
world  to  afford  the  votary  of  science  the  seclusion  he  needs, 
and  not  so  far  as  to  limit  his  resources.  A  hermit  might 
apparently  live  here  in  as  much  solitude  as  in  a  primeval 
forest. " 


220  TWO    ON-  A    TOWER. 

"His  lordship  has  been  good  enough  to  express  an 
interest  in  your  studies,"  said  Mr.  Torkingham  to  St. 
Cleeve.  "And  we  have  come  to  ask  you  to  let  us  see 
the  observatory." 

"With  great  pleasure,"  stammered  Swithin. 

"Where  is  the  observatory.?"  inquired  the  Bishop,  peer- 
ing round  again. 

"  The  staircase  is  just  outside  this  door,"  Swithin  an- 
swered. "I  am  at  your  lordship's  service,  and  will  show 
you  up  at  once. " 

"And  here  are  your  books,"  said  the  Bishop,  turning 
to  the  table  and  the  shaded  lamp.  ' '  You  take  an  obser- 
vation at  the  top,  I  presume,  and  come  down  here  to  re- 
cord your  observations." 

The  young  man  explained  his  precise  processes  as  well 
as  his  state  of  mind  would  let  him,  and  while  he  was  doing 
so  Mr.  Torkingham  and  Louis  waited  patiently  without, 
looking  sometimes  into  the  night,  and  sometimes  through 
the  door  at  the  interlocutors,  and  listening  to  their  scien- 
tific converse.  When  all  had  been  exhibited  here  below, 
Swithin  lit  his  lantern,  and,  inviting  his  visitors  to  follow, 
led  the  way  up  the  column,  experiencing  no  small  sense 
of  relief  as  soon  as  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  all  three  tramp- 
ing on  the  stairs  behind  him.  He  knew  very  well  that, 
once  they  were  inside  the  spiral,  Viviette  was  out  of  danger, 
her  knowledge  of  the  locality  enabling  her  to  find  her  way 
with  perfect  safety  through  the  plantation,  and  into  the 
park,  home. 

At  the  top  he  uncovered  his  equatorial,  and,  fo  the 
first  time  at  ease,  explained  to  them  its  beauties  and 
revealed  by  its  help  the  glories  of  those  stars  thai   svere 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  22  1 

eligible  for  inspection.  The  Bishop  spolce  as  intelHgcntly 
as  could  be  expected  on  a  topic  not  peculiarly  his  own; 
but.  .somehow,  he  seemed  rather  more  abstracted  in  manner 
now  than  when  he  had  arrived.  Swithin  thought  that 
perhaps  the  long  clamber  up  the  stairs,  coming  after  a 
hard  day's  work,  had  taken  his  spontaneity  out  of  him, 
and  Mr.  Torkingham  was  afraid  that  his  lordship  was 
getting  bored.  But  this  did  not  appear  to  be  tiie  case; 
for,  though  he  said  little,  he  staid  on  some  time  longer, 
examining  the  construction  of  the  dome  after  relinquishing 
the  telescope;  while  occasionally  Swithin  caught  the  eyes 
of  the  Bishop  fixed  hard  on  him. 

"Perhaps  he  sees  some  likeness  of  my  father  in  me," 
the  young  man  thought;  and  the  party  making  ready  to 
leave  at  this  time,  he  conducted  them  to  the  bottom  of 
the  tower. 

Swithin  was  not  prepared  for  what  followed  their  descent. 
All  were  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  The  astron- 
omer, lantern  in  hand,  offered  to  show  them  the  way 
o?it  of  the  plantation,  to  which  Mr.  Torkingham  replied 
that  he  knew  the  way  very  well,  and  would  not  trouble 
his  young  friend.  He  strode  forward  with  the  words,  and 
Louis  followed  him,  after  waiting  a  moment,  and  finding 
.hat  the  Bishop  would  not  take  the  precedence.  The 
latter  and  Swithin  were  thus  left  together  for  one  moment, 
whereupon  the  Bishop  turned. 

"Mr.  St.  Cleeve,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "I  should 
like  to  speak  to  you  privately,  before  I  leave,  to-morrow 
morning.  Can  you  meet  me — let  me  see — in  the  church- 
yard, at  half  past  ten  o'clock  .-'  " 

"  Oh  yes,  certainly,"  murmured  Swithin.     And  before 


2  22  TIVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

he  had  recovered  from  his  surprise  the  Bishop  had  joined 
the  others  in  the  shades  of  the  plantation. 

Swithin  immediately  opened  the  door  of  the  hut,  and 
scanned  the  nook  behind  the  bed.  As  he  had  expected, 
his  bird  had  flown. 


CHAPTER    XXVII.. 

A  LL  night  the  astronomer's  mind  was  on  the  stretch 
-^  with  curiosity  as  to  what  the  Bishop  could  wish  to 
siy  to  him.  A  dozen  conjectures  entered  his  brain,  to 
be  abandoned  in  turn  as  unUkcly.  That  which  finally 
seemed  the  most  plausible  was  that  the  Bishop,  having  be- 
come interested  in  his  pursuits,  and  entertaining  friendly 
recollections  of  his  father,  was  going  to  ask  if  he  could 
do  anything  to  help  him  on-  in  the  profession  he  had 
chosen.  Should  this  be  the  case,  thought  the  suddenly 
sanguine  youth,  it  would  seem  like  an  encouragement  to 
that  spirit  of  firmness  which  had  led  him  to  reject  his  late 
uncle's  offer,  because  it  involved  the  renunciation  of  Lady 
Constantine. 

At  last  he  fell  asleep;  and  when  he  awoke  it  was  so  late 
that  the  hour  was  ready  to  solve  what  conjecture  could 
not.  After  a  huiried  breakfast  he  paced  across  the  fields, 
entering  the  churchyard  by  the  south  gate  precisely  at  the 
appointed  minute. 

The  inclosure  was  well  adapted  for  a  private  interview, 
being  bounded  by  bushes  of  laurel  and  alder  neariy  on 
all  sid?s.      He  looked  round;  the  Bishop  was  not  there, 


2  24  TWO    Oy  A    TOWER. 

nor  any  living  creature  save  liimself.      Switliin  sat  down 
upon  a  tombstone  to  await    Bishop   Helmsdale's  arrival. 

While  he  sat  he  (fancied  he  could  hear  voices  in  conver- 
sation, not  [ax  oil",  and  further  attention  convinced  him 
that  diey  came  from  Lady  Constantine's  lawn,  which  was 
on!v  divided  from  the  churchvard  bv  a  hi2:h  wall  and 
shrubbery.  As  tlie  Bishop  still  delayed  his  coming, 
though  the  time  was  nearly  eleven,  and  as  the  lady  who.se 
sweet  voice  mingled  with  those  heard  from  the  lawn  was 
his  personal  property,  Swithin  became  exceedingly  cu- 
rious to  learn  what  was  going  on  within  that  screened 
promenade.  A  way  of  doing  so  occurred  to  him.  The 
key  was  in  the  church  door;  he  opened  it,  entered,  and 
ascended  to  the  ringer's  loft  in  the  west  tower.  At  the 
back  of  this  was  a  window  commanding  a  full  view  of 
Viviette's  garden  front. 

The  flowers  were  all  in  gayest  bloom,  and  the  creepers 
on  the  walls  of  the  house  were  bursting  into  *ufts  of  young 
green.  A  broad  gravel-walk  ran  from  end  to  end  of  tlie 
fa9ade,  terminating  in  a  large  conservatory.  In  the  walk 
were  three  people,  pacing  up  and  down.  Lady  Constan- 
tine's was  the  central  figure,  her  brother  being  on  one  side 
of  her,  and  a  stately  form,  in  a  corded  shovel-hat  of  glossy 
beaver  and  black  breeches,  on  the  other.  This  was  the  Bish- 
op. Viviette  carried  over  her  shoulder  a  sunshade  lined 
with  red,  which  she  twirled  idly.  They  were  laughing  and 
chatting  gayly,  and  when  the  group  approached  the 
churchyard  many  of  their  remarks  entered  the  silence  of 
the  church  tower  through  the  ventilator  of  the  window. 

The  conversation  was  general,   yet  interesting  enough 
to   Swithin.     At   length   Louis  stepped   upon   the  grass, 


TlVO    ON  A    TOWER.  225 

Jlhd  picked  up  something,  which  turned  out  to  be  a 
bowl  that  had  lain  there:  throwing  it  forward,  he  took 
a  second,  and  bowled  it  towards  the  fust,  or  jack. 
The  Bishop,  who  seemed  to  be  in  a  sprightly  mood,  fol- 
lowed suit,  and  bowled  one  in  a  curve  towards  the  jack 
turning  and  speaking  to  Lady  Constantine  as  he  con- 
cluded the  feat.  As  she  had  not  left  the  graveled  ter- 
race, he  raised  his  voice,  so  that  the  words  reached  Swithin 
distinctly.      "  Do  you  follow  us  ?  "  he  asked  gayly. 

"  I  am  not  skillful, "  she  said.      ' '  I  always  bowl  narrow. " 
The  Bishop  meditatively  paused.      "  This  moment  re- 
minds one  of  the  scene  in  Richard  the  Second,"  he  said. 
"I  mean  the  Duke  of  York's  garden,  where  the  queen 
and  her  two  ladies  play,  and  the  queen  says, — 

"  '  What  sport  shall  we  devise  here  in  this  garden, 
To  drive  away  the  heavy  thought  of  care  ?  ' 

'  •  To    which  her   lady  answers,    '  Madam,    we'll  play  at 
bowls. 

"That's  an  unfortunate  quotation  for  you,"  said  Lady 
Constantine;  "for  if  I  don't  forget,  the  queen  declines, 
saying,  '  'T  will  make  me  think  the  world  is  full  of  rubs, 
and  that  my  fortune  runs  against  the  bias.'  " 

"Then  I  cit»  mal  a  propos.  But  it  is  an  interesting 
old  game,  and  might  have  been  played  at  that  very  date, 
on  this  very  green. " 

The  Bishop  lazily  bowled  another,  and  while  he  was  do- 
ing it  Vivieiti's  glance  rose  by  accident  to  the  church-tower 
window,  where  she  recognized  Swithin's  face.  Her  sur- 
prise   was    uu!y    momentary;    a;id    waiting    till    both   her 


2  26  TlVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

companions'  backs  were  turned,  she  smiled  and  blew 
him  a  kiss.  In  another  minute  she  had  another  oppor- 
tunity and  blew  him  another:  afterwards  blowing  him 
one  a  third  time. 

Her  blowings  were  put  a  stop  to  by  the  Bishop  and 
Louis  throwing  down  the  bowls  and  rejoining  her  in  the 
path,  the  house-clock  at  the  moment  striking  half  past  eleven. 

"This  is  a  fine  way  of  keeping  an  engagement,"  said 
Swithin  to  himself.  "  I  have  waited  an  hour  while  you 
indulge  in  those  trifles." 

He  fumed,  turned,  and  behold  somebody  was  at  his 
elbow:  Tabitha  Lark.  Swithin  started,  and  said,  "How 
did  you  come  here,  Tabitha  } " 

"In  the  course  of  my  calling,  Mr.  St.  Cleeve,"  said  the 
smiling  girl.  ' '  I  come  to  practice  on  the  organ.  When 
I  entered  I  saw  you  up  here  through  the  tower  arch, 
and  I  crept  up  to  see  what  you  were  looking  at.  The 
Bishop  is  a  striking  man,  is  he  not .''  " 

"Yes,  rather,"  said  Swithin. 

"  I  think  he  is  much  devoted  to  Lady  Constantine,  and 
I  am  glad  of  it.      Aren't  you  .?  " 

"Oh,  yes — very,"  said  Swithin,  wondering  if  Tabitha 
had  seen  the  tender  little  salutes  between  Lady  Constantine 
and  himself 

"  I  don't  think  she  cares  much  for  him,"  added  Tabitha 
judicially.  "  Or,  even  if  she  does,  she  could  be  got  away 
from  him  in  no  time  by  a  younger  man." 

"Pooh,  that's  nothing,"  said  Swithin  impatiendy. 

Tabitha  then  remarked  that  her  blower  had  not  come 
to  time,  and  that  she  must  go  to  look  for  him;  upon  which 
she  descended  tlie  stairs,  and  left  Swithin  again  alone. 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  227 

A  few  minutes  later  the  Bishop  suddenly  looked  at  his 
watch,  Lady  Constantine  having  withdrawn  towards  the 
house.  Apparently  apologizing  to  Lfuiis,  the  Bishop 
came  down  the  terrace,  and  through  the  door  into  the 
churchyard.  Swithin  hastened  downstairs,  and  joined 
him  in  the  path  under  the  sunny  wall  of  the  aisle. 

Their  glances  met,  and  it  was  with  some  consternation 
lliat  Swithin  beheld  the  change  that  a  few  short  minutes 
had  wrought  in  that  episcopal  countenance.  On  the  lawn 
with  Lady  Constantine,  the  rays  of  an  almost  perpetual 
smile  had  brightened  his  dark  aspect  like  flowers  in  a 
shady  place:  now  the  smile  was  gone  as  completely  as  yes- 
terday; the  lines  of  his  face  were  firm;  his  dark  e^es  and 
whiskers  were  overspread  with  gravity;  and  as  he  gazed 
upon  Swithin  from  the  repose  of  his  stable  figure,  it  was 
like  an  evangeii^icd  King  of  Spades  come  to  have  it  out 
with  the  Knave  of  Hearts. 

To  return  for  a  moment  to  Louis  Glanville.  He  had 
been  somewhat  struck  with  the  abruptness  of  the  Bishop's 
de{)arture,  and  more  particularly  by  the  circumstance  that 
he  had  gone  away  by  the  private  door  into  the  church\ard, 
instead  of  by  the  regular  exit  on  the  other  side.  True, 
great  men  were  known  to  suffer  from  absence  of  mind, 
and  Bishop  Helmsdale,  having  a  dim  sense  that  he  had 
enlereti  by  that  door  yesterday,  might  have  unconsciously 
lurncii  thitherward  now.  Louis,  upon  the  whole,  thought 
little  of  the  matter,  and  being  now  left  quite  alone  on  the 
lawn,  he  seated  himself  in  an  arbor,  and  began  smoking. 

The  arbor  was  situated  against  the  churchyard  wall. 
r^he  almospherq  was  as  still  as  the  air  of  a  hot-house; 


2  28  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

fourteen  inches  of  brickwork  only  divided  Louis  from 
the  scene  of  the  Bishop's  interview  with  St.  Cleeve,  and, 
as  voices  on  the  lawn  had  been  audible  to  Swithin  in  the 
churchyard,  voices  in  the  churchyard  could  be  heard 
without  difficulty  from  that  close  corner  of  the  lawn.  No 
sooner  had  Louis  lit  a  cigar  than  the  dialogue  began. 

"Ah,  you  are  here,  St.  Cleeve,"  said  the  Bishop, 
hardly  replying  to  Swithin's  good  morning.  "I  fear  I 
am  a  little  late.  Well,  my  request  to  you  to  meet  me 
may  have  seemed  somewhat  unusual,  seeing  that  we  were 
strangers  till  a  few  hours  ago." 

"  I  don't  mind  that,  if  your  lordship  wishes  to  see  me." 

"  I  thought  it  best  to  see  you  regarding  your  confirma- 
tion yesterday;  and  my  reason  for  taking  a  more  active 
step  with  you  than  I  should  otherwise  have  done  is  that 
1  have  some  interest  in  you  through  having  known  your 
father  when  we  were  undergraduates.  His  room  was  on 
the  same  staircase  with  mine  at  All  Angels,  and  we  were 
friendly  till  time  and  affairs  separated  us  even  more  com- 
pletely than  usually  happens.  However,  about  your  pre- 
senting yourself  for  confirmation."  (The  Bishop's  voice 
grew  stern. )  "If  I  had  known  yesterday  morning  what 
I  knew  twelve  hours  later,  I  wouldn't  have  confirmed  you 
at  all." 

"  Indeed,  Bishop  Helmsdale  !  " 

"Yes,  I  say  it,  and  I  mean  it.  I  visited  your  obser- 
vatory last  night. " 

"You  did." 

"In  inspecting  it  I  noticed  something  which  I  may 
truly  describe  as  extraordinary.  I  have  had  young  men 
present  theraselyes  to  me  who  turned  out  to  be  note- 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  229 

riously  unfit,  either  from  giddiness,  from  being  profane  or 
intemperate,  or  from  some  bad  quality  or  other.  But  I 
never  remember  a  case  which  equaled  the  cool  culpability 
of  this.  While  infringing  the  first  principles  of  social  de- 
corum, you  might  at  least  liave  respected  the  ordinance 
sufficiently  to  have  staid  away  from  it  altogether.  Now 
I  have  sent  for  vou  here  to  see  if  a  last  entreaty  and  a  di- 
rect appeal  to  your  sense  of  manly  uprightness  will  have 
any  effect  in  inducing  you  to  change  your  course  of  life." 

The  voice  of  Swithin  in  his  next  remark  showed  how 
tremendously  this  attack  of  the  Bishop  had  told  upon  his 
feelings.  Louis,  of  course,  did  not  know  the  reason  why 
the  words  should  have  affected  him  precisely  as  they  did; 
to  any  one  in  the  secret,  the  double  embarrassment  aris- 
ing from  misapprehended  ethics  and  inability  to  set  mat- 
ters right,  because  his  word  of  secrecy  to  another  was  in- 
violable, would  have  accounted  for  the  young  man's 
emotion  sufficiently  well. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  your  lordship  should  have  seen  any- 
thing objectionable,"  said  Swithin.  "  May  I  ask  what  it 
was .'  " 

"  You  know  what  it  was.  Something  in  your  chamber, 
which  forced  me  to  the  above  conclusions.  I  disguised 
mv  feelings  of  sorrow  at  the  time  for  obvious  reasons,  but 
I  never  in  my  whole  life  was  so  shocked. " 

"  At  what,  my  lord  .^  " 

' '  At  what  I  saw. '" 

"  Pardon  me,  Bishop  Helmsdale,  but  you  said  just  now 
thai  we  are  strangers;  so  what  you  saw  in  m}'  cabin  con- 
cerns me  only. '" 

"There  I  contra  1  ci  you.     Twenty-four  hours  ago  that 


230 


TJVO    ON  A    TOWER. 


remark  would  have  been  plausible  enough;  but  by  pre- 
senting yourself  for  confirmation  at  my  hands,  you  have 
invited  my  investigation  into  your  principles." 

Swithin  sighed.      "  I  admit  it,"  he  said. 

' '  And  what  do  you  find  them  .?  " 

"You  say  reprehensible.  But  you  might  at  least  let 
me  hear  the  proof. 

"I  can  do  more.      I  can  let  you  see  it." 

There  was  a  pause.  Louis  Glanville  was  so  highly  in- 
terested that  he  stood  upon  the  seat  of  the  arbor,  and 
looked  through  the  leafage  over  the  wall.  The  Bishop 
had  produced  an  article  from  his  pocket. 

"  Wliat  is  it.'"  said  Swithin,  laboriously  scrutinizing 
the  object,  as  if  he  did  not  understand  its  nature  or  use. 

"Why,  don't  you  see } "  said  the  Bishop,  holding  it  out 
between  his  finger  and  thumb  in  Swithin's  face.  "A 
bracelet, — a  coral  bracelet.  I  found  it  on  the  coverlet  in 
your  chamber.  And  of  the  sex  of  the  owner  there  can  be 
no  doubt.  More  than  that,  she  was  concealed  behind  the 
curtains,  for  I  saw  them  move. "  In  the  decision  of  his 
opinion  the  Bishop  threw  the  coral  bracelet  down  on  a 
tombotone. 

"Nobody  was  in  my  room,  my  lord,  who  had  not  a  per- 
r.ct  right  to  be  there,"  said  the  younger  man,  firmly. 

"Well,  well,  that's  a  matter  of  assertion.  Now  don't 
get  in  a  passion,  and  say  to  me  in  your  haste  what  you'll 
rcDcnt  of  saving  afterwards." 

"I  am  not  in  a  passion,  I  assure  your  lordship.  I  am 
too  .sad  for  passion." 

"Very  well;  that's  a  hopeful  sign.  Now  1  would  ask 
yoUj  as  one  man  of  another,  do  you  tliink  that  to  come 


rff^O    ON  A     TOWER.  23 1 

to  me,  the  Bishop  of  ibis  large  and  important  diocese,  as 
you  came  yesterday,  and  jirctend  to  be  something  that 
you  are  not,  is  (]uilc  upright  conduct,  leave  alone  relig- 
ious ?  'I'hink  it  over.  We  may  never  meet  again.  But 
bear  in  mind  what  your  Bishop  and  si)irilual  head  says 
to  yiiu,  and  see  if  you  cannot  mend  before  it  is  too  late.'" 

Swilhin  was  meek  as  Moses,  and  he  brushed  away  a 
tear.  "  Mv  lord  l^ishop,  I  am  in  a  difficult  position,"  he 
said  mournfully.  "How  difficult,  nobody  but  myself 
can  tell.  I  cannot  e.xplain;  there  are  insuperable  reasons 
against  it.  But  will  you  lake  my  word  of  assurance  that 
I  am  not  so  bad  as  I  seem  }  Some  day  I  will  prove  it. 
Till  then  I  only  ask  you  to  suspend  your  judgm.ent  on 
me. 

The  Bishop  shook  his  head,  and  went  towards  the 
vicarage  as  if  he  had  suddenly  lost  his  hearing,  Swithin 
followed  him  with  his  eyes,  and  Louis's  followed  the 
direction  of  Swithin's.  Belbre  the  Bishop  had  reached 
the  vicarage  entrance.  Lady  Constantine  crossed  in  front 
of  him.  She  had  a  basket  on  her  arm,  and  was,  in  fact, 
going  to  visit  some  of  the  poorer  cottages.  Who  could 
believe  the  Bishop  now  to  be  the  same  man  that  he  was 
a  moment  before.'*  The  darkness  left  his  face  as  if  he 
had  come  out  of  a  cave;  his  look  was  all  sweetness  and 
shine  and  ga}ety,  as  he  again  greeted  Viviette. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

"T^FiE  conversation  which  arose  between  the  Bishop 
-•-  and  Lady  Constantine  was  of  that  lively  and  repro- 
ductive kind  which  cannot  be  ended  during  any  reason- 
able halt  of  two  people  going  in  opposite  directions.  He 
turned,  and  walked  with  her  along  the  laurel-screened 
lane  that  bordered  the  churchvard,  till  their  voices  died 
away  in  the  distance.  Swithin  then  aroused  himself  from 
his  thoughtful  regard  of  them,  and  went  out  of  the  church- 
yard by  another  gate. 

Seeing  himself  now  to  be  left  alone  on  the  scene,  Louis 
Glanville  descended  from  his  post  of  observation  in  the 
arbor.  He  came  through  the  private  doorway,  and  on 
to  that  spot  among  the  graves  where  the  Bishop  and  St. 
Cleeve  had  conversed.  On  the  tombstone  still  lay  the 
coral  bracelet  which  Dr.  Helmsdale  had  flung  down  there 
in  his  indignation;  for  the  agitated,  introspective  mood 
into  which  Swithin  had  been  thrown  had  banished  from 
his  mind  all  thought  of  securing  the  trinket,  and  putting 
it  in  his  pocket. 

Louis  picked  up  the  little  red  scandal-breeding  thing, 
and  while  walking  on  with  it  in  his  hand  he  observed  Tabitha 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  233 

Lark  approaching  Uie  church,  in  company  with  the  young 
blower  whom  she  had  gone  in  search  of,  to  inspire  her 
organ-practicing  within.  Louis  immediately  put  together, 
with  that  rare  diplomatic  keenness  of  which  he  was  proud, 
the  little  scene  he  had  witnessed  between  Tabitha  auvl 
Swithin  during  the  confirmation,  and  the  Bishop's  stern 
statement  as  to  where  he  had  found  the  bracelet.  He 
had  no  longer  any  doubt  that  it  belonged  to  her. 

"  Poor  girl  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  and  sang  in  an  under- 
tone,— 

"  Tra  deri,  dera, 
L'histoire  n'est  pas  nouvelle  !  " 

When  she  drew  nearer,  Louis  called  her  by  name. 
She  sent  the  boy  into  the  church,  and  came  forward, 
blushing  at  having  been  called  by  so  fin«  a  gentleman. 
Louis  held  out  the  bracelet. 

"Here  is  something  I  have  found,  or  somebody  else 
has  found,"  he  said  to  her.  "I  won't  state  where.  Put 
it  away,  and  say  no  more  about  it.  1  will  not  mention 
it  either.  Now  go  on  into  the  church,  v.-here  you  were 
going,  and  may  God  have  mercy  on  your  soul,  my  dear.'' 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Tabitha,  with  some  perplexity, 
yet  inclined  to  be  pleased,  and  only  recognizing  in  the 
situation  the  fact  that  Lady  Constantine's  humorous  broth- 
er was  making  her  a  present. 

"  You  are  much  obliged  to  me.? " 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"Well,  Miss  Lark,  I've  discovered  a  secret,  you  see." 

"What  may  that  be,  I\Ir.  Glanville?" 

"That  you  are  in  love." 


234  TWO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

"  I  don't  admit  it,  sir.     Who  told  you  so?  " 
"Nobody.     Only  I  put  two  and  two  together.     Now 
take  my  advice.      Beware  of  lovers  !     They  are  a  bad  lot, 
ai\(l  bring  young  women  to  tears." 

'  •  Some  do,  I  dare  say.     But  some  don't. " 
"And  you  think  that  in  your  particular  case  the  latter 
alternative  will  hold  good.'     We  generally  think  we  shall 
be  lucky  ourselves,  though  all  the  world  before  us,  in  the 
same  situation,  have  been  otherwise." 

"Oh,  yes,  or  we  should  die  outright  of  despair." 
"Well,  I  don't  think  j^ou  will  be  lucky  in  your  case." 
"Please  how  do  you  know  so  much,  since  my  case  has 
not  yet  arrived  .''  "  asked  Tabitha,  tossing  her  head  a  little 
disdainfully,  but  less  than  she  might  have  done  if  he  had 
not  obtained  a  charter  for  his  discourse  by  giving  her  the 
bracelet. 

"Fie,  Tabitha!" 

"I  tell  you  it  has  not  arrived!"  she  said,  with  some 
anger.  "  I  have  not  got  a  lover,  and  everybody  knows  I 
haven't,  and  it's  an  insinuating  thing  for  you  to  say  so  ! " 
Louis  laughed,  thinking"  how  natural  it  was  that  a  girl 
should  so  emphatically  deny  circumstances  that  would 
not  bear  curious  inquiry.  "Why,  of  course  I  meant  my- 
self," he  said  soothingly.  "So,  then,  you  will  not  accept 
me.' "' 

"I  didn't  know  you  meant  yourself,"  she  replied. 
"  Bu:  I  won't  accept  you.  And  I  think  you  ought  not 
to  jest  on  such,  subjects.  " 

"Well,  perhaps  not.  However,  don't  let  the  Bishop 
see  your  bracelet,  and  all  will  be  xyeU.  But  mind,  lovers 
aiJ:e  d.ecQivQrs.," 


TlVO   OM  A    TOWER.  ij5 

Tabitha  laughed,  and  they  parted,  the  girl  entering  the 
church.  She  had  been  feeling  almost  certain  that,  having 
accidentally  found  the  bracelet  somewhere,  he  had  pre- 
sented it  in  a  whim  to  her  as  the  first  girl  he  met.  Yet 
now  she  began  to  have  momentary  doubts  whether  he 
had  not  been  laboring  under  a  mistake,  and  had  imag- 
ined her  to  be  the  owner.  The  bracelet  was  not  valuable; 
it  was,  in  fact,  a  mere  toy, — the  pair  of  which  this  was 
one  being  a  little  present  made  to  Lady  Constantine  by 
Swithin  on  the  day  of  their  marriage;  and  she  had  not 
worn  them  with  sufficient  frequency  out  of  doors  for  Tabi- 
tha to  recognize  either  as  positively  her  ladyship's.  But 
when,  out  of  sight  of  the  blower,  the  girl  momentarily 
tried  it  on,  in  a  corner  by  the  organ,  it  seemed  to  her 
that  the  ornament  was  possibly  Lady  Constantine's.  Now 
that  the  pink  beads  shone  before  her  eyes  on  her  own 
arm,  she  remembered  having  seen  a  bracelet  with  just 
such  an  effect  gracing  the  wrist  of  Lady  Constantine,  upon 
one  occasion.  A  temporary  self-surrender  to  the  sophism 
that  if  jNIr.  Louis  Glanville  chose  to  give  away  anything 
belonging  to  his  sister  she,  Tabitha,  had  a  right  to  take  it 
without  question,  was  soon  checked  by  a  resolve  to  carry 
the  tempting  strings  of  coral  to  her  ladyship  that  evening 
and  incpiirc  the  truth  about  them.  This  decided  on,  she 
slipped  the  bracelet  into  her  pocket,  and  played  her  vol- 
untaries with  a  light  heart. 

Bishop  Helmsdale  did  not  tear  himself  away  from  Wel- 
land  till  about  two  o'clock  that  afternoon,  which  was  three 
hours  later  than  he  had  intended  to  leave.  It  was  with  a 
feeling  of  relief  tliat  Swlihin,  looking  from  the  top  of  the 


2^6  TlVO    ON'  A    TOlVEk. 

tower,  saw  the  carriage  drive  out  from  the  vicarage  into 
the  turnpike  road,  and  ivhirl  the  right  reverend  gentleman 
again  towards  Warborne.  The  coast  being  now  clear  of 
him,  Swithin  meditated  how  to  see  Viviette,  and  explain 
what  had  happened.  With  this  in  view  he  waited  where 
he  was  till  evening  came  on. 

Meanwhile,  Lady  Constantine  and  her  brother  dined 
by  themselves  at  Welland  House.  They  had  not  met 
since  the  morning,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  left  alone 
Louis  said,  "You  have  done  very  well  so  far;  but  you 
miorht  have  been  a  little  warmer." 

"  Done  well .-' ''  she  asked,  with  surprise. 

"  Yes,  with  the  Bishop.  The  difficult  question  is  how 
to  follow  up  our  advantage.  How  are  you  to  keep  your- 
self in  sight  of  him  1  "' 

"  Heavens,  Louis  !  You  don't  seriously  mean  that  the 
Bishop  of  Melchester  has  any  feelings  for  me  other  than 
friendly }  " 

"Viviette,  this  is  affectation.  You  know  he  has  as 
well  as  I  do." 

She  sighed.  "Yes,"  she  said.  "I  own  I  had  a  sus- 
picion of  the  same  thing.      What  a  misfortune  !  " 

"A  misfortune.''  Surely  the  world  is  turned  upside 
down  !  You  will  drive  me  to  despair  about  our  future,  if 
you  see  things  so  awry.  Exert  yourself  to  do  something, 
so  as  to  make  of  this  accident  a  stepping-stone  to  higher 
things.  The  gentleman  will  give  us  the  slip,  if  we  don't 
pursue  the  friendship  at  once." 

"I  cannot  have  you  talk  like  this!"  she  cried  impa- 
tiently. "  I  have  no  more  thought  of  the  Bishop  than  I 
have  of  the  Pope.      I  would  much  rather  not  have  had 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  23^ 

him  here  to  lunch  at  all.  You  said  it  would  be  necessary 
to  do  it,  and  an  opportunit\',  and  I  thought  it  my  duty 
to  show  some  hospitality  when  he  was  coming  so  near, 
Mr.  Torkingham's  house  being  so  small.  But  ol  course 
I  understood  that  the  opportunity  would  be  one  for  \chi 
in  getting  to  know  him,  your  prospects  being  so  indefinite 
at  present;   not  one  for  me." 

"  If  you  don't  follow  up  this  chance  of  being  spiritual 
queen  of  Melchester,  you  will  never  have  another  of  be- 
ing anything.  Mind  this,  Vivietle;  you  are  not  so  young 
as  you  were.  You  are  getting  on  to  be  a  middle-aged 
woman,  ami  your  black  hair  is  precisely  of  the  sort  which 
time  quickly  turns  gray.  You  must  make  up  your  mind 
to  grizzled  bachelors  or  widowers.  Young  marriageable 
men  won't  look  at  you;  or  if  they  do  just  now,  in  a  year 
or  two  more  they'll  despise  you  as  an  antiquated  party." 

Lady  Constantine  perceptibly  paled.  "Young  men 
what .''  "  she  asked.      "  Say  that  again." 

"I  .said  it  was  no  use  to  think  of  young  men:  they 
won't  look  at  you  much  longer;  or  if  they  do,  it  will  be 
to  look  away  again  very  quickly." 

•'You  imply  that  if  1  were  to  marry  a  man  younger 
than  myself  he  would  speedily  acquire  a  contempt  for  me.' 
How  much  younger  must  a  man  be  than  his  wife — to  get 
that  feeling  for  her.?  '  She  was  resting  her  elbow  on  the 
chair  as  she  faintly  spoke  the  words,  and  covered  her  eyes 
with  her  hand. 

"An  exceedingly  small  number  of  years,"  said  Louis, 
dryly.  "Now  the  Bishop  is  at  least  fifteen  years  older 
than  you,  and  on  that  account,  no  less  than  on  others,  is 
an  excellent  match.      You  would  be  head  of  the  church  in 


238  TIVO    ON-  A    TOWER. 

this  diocese;  what  more  can  you  require,  after  these  }ears 
of  miserable  obscurity?  In  addition,  you  would  escape 
that  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  bishops'  wives,  of  being  only  Mrs. 
while  their  husbands  are  peers." 

She  was  not  listening;  his  previous  observation  still  de- 
tained her  thoughts. 

"Louis,"  she  said,  "in  the  case  of  a  woman  marrying  a 
man  much  younger  than  herself,  does  he  get  to  dislike 
her,  even  if  there  has  been  a  social  advantage  to  him  in 
the  union .'' '' 

"Yes, — not  a  whit  less.  Ask  any  person  of  experi- 
ence. But  what  of  that .?  Let's  talk  of  our  own  affairs. 
You  say  you  have  no  thought  of  the  Bishop.  And  yet  if 
he  had  staid  here  another  day  or  two  he  would  have  pro- 
posed to  you  straight  off.  " 

"Seriously,  Louis,  I  could  not  accept  him." 

"Why  not.'" 

"I  don't  love  him." 

"Oh,  oh,  I  like  those  words  !"  cried  Louis,  throwing 
himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  looking  at  the  ceiling  in  sa- 
tirical enjoyment.  "A  woman  who  at  two-and-twenty 
married  for  convenience,  at  nearly  thirty  talks  of  not  mar- 
rying without  love;  the  rule  of  inverse,  that  is,  in  which 
more  requires  less,  and  less  requires  more.  As  your  only 
brother,  older  than  yourself,  and  more  experienced,  I  in- 
sist that  you  encourage  the  Bishop." 

"Don't  quarrel  with  me,  Louis,"  she  said  piteously. 
"We  don't  know  that  he  thinks  anything  of  me, — we  only 
guess. " 

"I  know  it, — and  j-ou  shall  hear  how  I  know.  I  am 
of  a  curious  and   conjectural  nature,   as  you  are  aware. 


Tl'FO    ON  A    TOWER.  239 

Last  night,  when  everybody  had  gone  to  bed,  I  stepped 
out  for  a  five  minutes'  smoke  on  the  lawn,  and  walked 
down  to  where  you  get  near  the  vicarage  windows.  While 
I  was  there  in  the  dark,  one  of  them  opened,  and  Bishop 
Helmsdale  leant  out.  The  illuminated  oblong  of  your 
window  shone  him  full  in  the  face  between  the  trees,  and 
presently  your  shadow  crossed  it.  He  waved  his  hand, 
and  murmured  some  tender  words,  though  what  they  were, 
exactly,  I  could  not  hear." 

"  What  a  vague,  imaginary  story, — as  if  he  could  know 
my  shadow  !  Besides,  a  man  of  the  Bishop's  dignity 
wouldn't  have  done  such  a  thing.  When  I  knew  him  as 
a  younger  man  he  was  not  at  all  romantic,  and  he's  not 
likely  to  have  grown  so  now. " 

"  Tliat's  just  what  he  is  likely  to  have  done.  No  lover 
is  so  extreme  a  specimen  of  the  species  as  an  old  lover. 
Come,  Viviette,  no  more  of  this  fencing.  I  have  entered 
into  the  project  heart  and  soul, — so  much  that  I  have 
postponed  my  departure  till  the  matter  is  well  under  way." 

"  Louis — my  dear  Louis — yoM.  will  bring  me  into  some 
disagreeable  position  !  "  said  she,  clasping  her  hands.  "I 
do  entreat  you  not  to  interfere,  or  do  anything  rash  about 
me.  The  step  is  impossible.  I  have  something  to  tell 
you  some  day.      I  must  live  on,  and  endure" — 

"Eveiything  except  this  penur}-,"  replied  Louis,  un- 
moved. "Come,  I  have  begun  the  campaign  by  inviting 
Bishop  Helmsdale,  and  I'll  take  the  responsibility  of  car- 
rying it  on.  All  I  ask  of  you  is  not  to  make  a  ninny  of 
yourself.     Come,  give  me  your  promise  1  " 

"No,  I  cannot, — I  don't  know  how  to.  I  only  know 
one  th'ng, — that  I  am  in  no  hurrv" — 


240  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"No  hurry  be  hanged  !  Agree,  Hke  a  good  sister,  to 
charm  the  Bishop." 

"I  must  consider !"  she  rephed,  with  perturbed  evasive- 
ness. 

It  being  a  fine  evening,  Louis  went  out  of  the  house  to 
enjoy  his  Havana  in  the  shrubbery.  On  reaching  his 
favorite  seat  he  found  he  had  left  his  cigar-case  behind 
him;  he  immediately  returned  for  it.  "  When  he  ap- 
proached the  window  by  which  he  had  emerged,  he  saw 
Swithin  St.  Cleeve  standing  there  in  the  dusk,  talking  to 
Viviette  inside. 

St.  Cleeve's  back  was  towards  Louis,  but,  whether  at  a 
signal  from  her  or  by  accident,  he  quickly  turned  and  rec- 
ognized Glanville;  whereupon,  raising  his  hat  to  Lady 
Constantine,  the  young  man  passed  along  the  terrace  walk 
and  by  the  churchyard  door. 

Louis  rejoined  his  sister.  "I  didn't  know  you  allowed 
your  lawn  to  be  a  public  thoroughfare  for  the  parish,"  he 
said  suspiciously. 

"  I  am  not  exclusive,  especially  since  I  have  been  so 
poor,"  replied  she. 

"Then,  do  you  let  everybody  pass  this  way,  or  only 
that  illustrious  youth,  because  he  is  so  good-looking.?  " 

"  1  have  no  strict  rule  in  the  case.  Mr.  St.  Cleeve  is 
an  acquaintance  of  mine,  and  he  can  certainly  come  here 
if  he  chooses."  Her  color  rose  somewhat,  and  she  spoke 
warmly. 

Louis  was  too  cautious  a  bird  to  reveal  to  her  what  had 
suddenly  dawned  upon  his  mind, — that  his  sister,  in  com- 
mon with  the  (to  his  thinking)  unhappy  Tabitha  Lark, 
had  been  foolish  enougli  to  j;et  interested  in  this  phenom- 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  24 1 

enon  of  the  parisli,  this  scientific  Adonis.  But  he  resolved 
to  cure  at  once  her  tenc!er  feehng,  if  it  existed,  by  letting 
out  a  secret  which  would  inflame  her  dignity  against  the 
weakness. 

"A  good-looking  young  man,"  he  said,  with  his  eyes 
where  Swithin  had  vanished.  "But  not  so  good  as  he 
looks.      In  fiict,  a  regular  young  sinner." 

"  What  do  you  mean  .?  " 

"Oh,  only  a  little  feature  I  discovered  in  St.  Cleeve's 
history.  But  I  suppose  he  has  a  right  to  sow  his  wild 
oats  as  well  as  other  young  men. "' 

"Tell  me  what  vou  allude  to, — do,  Louis." 

"It  is  hardly  fit  that  I  should.  However,  the  case  is 
amusing  enough.  I  was  sitting  in  the  arbor  to-day,  and 
was  an  unwilling  listener  to  the  oddest  interview  I  ever 
heard  of.  Our  friend  the  Bishop  discovered,  when  we 
visited  the  observatory  last  night,  that  our  astronomer  was 
not  alone  in  his  seclusion.  A  lady  shared  his  romantic 
cabin  with  him;  and  finding  this,  the  Bishop  naturally 
enou2:h  felt  that  the  ordinance  of  confirmation  had  been 
profaned.  So  his  lordship  sent  for  Master  Swithin  this 
morning,  and,  meeting  him  in  the  churchyard,  read  him 
such  an  excommunicating  lecture  as  I  warrant  he  won't  for- 
get in  his  life-time.     Ha-ha-ha!     'T  was  very  good, — very." 

He  watched  her  face  narrowly,  while  he  spoke  with  such 
seeming  carelessness.  Instead  of  the  agitation  of  jealousy 
that  he  had  expected  to  be  aroused  by  this  hint  of  another 
woman  in  the  case,  there  was  a  curious  expression,  more 
like  embarrassment  than  anything  else,  which  might  have 
been  fairly  attributed  to  the  subject.  Can  it  be  that  I  am 
mistaken .-"  he  asked  himself. 


242  TIVO    ON"  A    TOWER. 

The  possibility  that  he  might  be  mistaken  restored  Louis 
to  good  humor,  and,  the  hghts  having  been  brought,  he 
sat  with  his  sister  for  some  time,  talking  with  purpose  of 
Swithin's  low  rank  on  one  side,  and  the  sordid  struggles 
that  might  be  in  store  for  him.  St.  Cleeve  being  in  the 
unhappy  case,  of  deriving  his  existence  from  two  channels 
of  society,  it  resulted  that  he  seemed  to  belong  to  either 
this  or  that,  according  to  the  attitude  of  the  beholder. 
Louis  threw  the  light  entirely  on  Swithin's  agricultural 
side,  bringing  out  old  Mrs.  Martin  and  her  connections 
and  her  ways  of  life  with  luminous  distinctness,  till  Lady 
Constantine  became  greatly  depressed.  She,  in  her  hope- 
fulness, had  almost  forgotten,  latterly,  that  the  bucolic  ele- 
ment, so  incisively  represented  by  Messrs.  Hezzy  Biles, 
Haymoss  Fry,  Sammy  Blore,  and  the  rest,  entered  into 
his  condition  at  all;  to  her  he  had  been  the  son  of  his  aca- 
demic father  alone. 

But  she  would  not  reveal  the  depression  to  which  she 
had  been  subjected  by  this  resuscitation  of  the  homely  half 
of  poor  Swithin;  presently  putting  an  end  to  the  subject, 
by  walking  hither  and  thither  about  the  room. 

"What  have  you  lost.'"  said  Louis,  observing  her 
movements. 

"Nothing  of  consequence, — a  bracelet." 

"Coral }  "  he  inquired  calmly. 

"Yes.  How  did  you  know  it  was  coral.?  You  have 
never  seen  it,  have  you  } '' 

He  was  about  to  make  answer;  but  the  amazed  en- 
lightenment which  her  announcement  had  produced  in 
him,  through  knowing  where  the  Bishop  had  found  such 
an  article,  led  him  to  reconsider  himself     Then,  like  an 


TIVO    OJV  A     rOlVER.  243 

astute  man,  by  no  means  sure  of  the  dimensions  of  the 
intrigue  he  might  be  uneaitliing,  he  said  carelessly,  "I 
found  such  a  one  in  the  churchyard  to-day.  But  I  thought 
it  appeared  to  be  of  no  great  rarity,  and  I  gave  it  to  (;>ne 
of  the  village  girls  who  was  passing  by." 

"Did  she  take  it?  Who  was  she.? "  said  the  unsuspect- 
ing Viviette. 

"Really,  I  don't  remember.  I  suppose  it  is  of  no 
consequence  .•*  " 

"Oh,  no;  its  value  is  nothing,  comparatively.  It  was 
only  one  of  a  pair  such  as  young  girls  wear."  Lady  Con- 
stantine  could  not  add  that,  in  spite  of  this,  she  herself 
valued  it  as  being  Swithin's  present,  and  the  best  he  could 
afford. 

Panic-struck  by  his  ruminations,  although  revealing 
nothing  by  his  manner,  Louis  soon  after  went  up  to  his 
room,  professedly  to  write  letters.  He  gave  vent  to  a  low 
whistle  when  he  was  out  of  hearing.  He  of  course  re- 
membered perfectly  well  to  whom  he  had  given  the  corals, 
and  resolved  to  seek  out  Tabitha  the  next  morning  to  as- 
certain whether  she  could  possibly  have  owned  such  a 
trinket,  as  well  as  his  sister, — which  at  present  he  very 
greatly  doubted,  though  fervently  hoping  that  she  might. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

nPHE  effect  upon  Swithin  of  the  interview  with  the 
-*-  Bishop  had  been  a  very  marked  one.  He  felt 
that  he  had  good  ground  for  resenting  that  dignitary's 
tone  in  haughtilv  assuming  that  all  must  be  sinful  which 
at  the  first  blush  appeared  to  be  so,  and  in  narrowly  re- 
fusing a  young  man  the  benefit  of  a  single  doubt.  Swithin's 
assurance  that  he  would  be  able  to  explain  all  some  day 
had  been  taken  in  contemptuous  incredulity. 

"  He  may  be  as  virtuous  as  his  prototype  Timothy;  but 
he's  an  opinionated  old  fogy,  all  the  same,"  said  St.  Cleeve 
petulantly. 

Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  Swithin's  nature  was  so  fresh 
and  ingenuous,  notwithstanding  that  recent  affairs  had 
somewhat  denaturalized  him,  that  for  a  man  in  the  Bish- 
op's position  to  think  him  immoral  was  almost  as  over- 
whelming as  if  he  had  actually  been  so,  and  at  moments 
he  could  scarcely  bear  existence  under  so  gross  a  suspicion. 
What  was  his  union  with  Lady  Constantine  worth  to  him 
when,  by  reason  of  it,  he  was  thought  a  reprobate  by  al- 
most the  only  living  man  who  had  professed  to  take  an 
interest  in  him  ':" 

Certainly,  by  contrast  with  his  air-built  image  of  hirn- 


TIVO    ON  A     TO  TVER.  245 

self  as  a  worthy  astronomer,  received  by  all  the  world, 
and  the  envied  husband  of  Viviette,  the  present  imputation 
was  humiliating.  The  glorious  light  of  this  tender  and 
refined  passion  seemed  to  have  become  debased  to  bur- 
lesque hues  by  pure  accident,  and  his  aesthetic  no  less  than 
his  ethic  taste  was  offended  by  such  an  anticlimax.  He 
who  had  soared  amid  the  remotest  grandeurs  of  nature 
had  been  taken  to  task  on  a  rudimentary  question  of 
morals,  which  had  never  been  a  question  with  him  at 
all.  This  was  what  the  exigencies  of  an  awkward  at- 
tachment had  brought  him  to;  but  he  blamed  the  cir- 
cumstances, and  not  for  one  moment  Lady  Constantine. 

Having  now  set  his  heart  against  a  longer  concealment, 
he  was  disposed  to  think  that  an  excellent  way  of  begin- 
ning a  revelation  of  their  marriage  would  be  by  writing 
a  confidential  letter  to  the  Bishop,  detailing  the  whole 
case.  But  it  was  impossible  to  do  this  on  his  own  re- 
spon'^ibilitv.  He  still  recognized  the  understanding  en- 
tered into  with  Viviette  before  the  marriage  to  be  as 
binding  as  ever, — namely,  that  the  initiative  in  disclos- 
ing: their  union  should  come  from  her.  Yet  he  hardiv 
doubted  that  she  would  take  that  initiative  when  he  told 
her  of  his  extraordinary  reprimand  in  the  churchyard. 

I'his  was  what  he  had  come  to  do  when  Louis  saw  him 
standing  at  the  window.  But  before  he  had  said  half  a 
dozen  words  to  Viviette  she  motioned  to  him  to  go  on, 
which  he  mechanically  did,  ere  he  could  sufficiently  col- 
lect his  thoughts  on  its  advisability  or  otherwise.  He  did 
not,  however,  go  far.  While  Louis  and  his  sister  were 
discussing  him  in  the  drawing-room  he  lingered,  musing,- 
in  the  church}ard,  hoping  that  she  might  be  able  to  es- 


246  TJVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

cape,   and  join  him  in  the  consultation  he  so  earnestly 
desired. 

She  at  last  found  opportunity  to  do  this.  As  soon  as 
Louis  had  left  the  room,  and  shut  himself  in  upstairs, 
she  ran  out  by  the  window  in  the  direction  Swithin  had 
taken.  When  her  footsteps  began  crunching  on  the 
gravel  he  came  forward  from  the  churchyard  door. 

They  embraced  each  other  in  haste,  and  then,  in  a 
few  short,  panting  words  she  explained  to  him  that  her 
brother  had  heard  and  witnessed  the  interview  on  that 
spot  between  himself  and  the  Bishop,  and  had  told  her 
the  substance  of  the  Bishop's  accusation,  not  knowing 
she  was  the  woman  in  the  cabin. 

"And  what  I  cannot  understand  is  this,"  she  added: 
"how  did  the  Bishop  discover  that  the  person  behind 
the  bed-curtains  was  a  woman,  and  not  a  man }  " 

Swithin  explained  that  in  addition  to  seeing  the  cur- 
tains move  the  Bishop  had  unluckily  found  on  the  bed 
a  bracelet  she  had  dropped  there,  and  had  brought  it 
to  him  in  the  churchyard. 

"Oh,  Swithin,  what  do  you  say.?  Found  the  coral 
bracelet  .-*     What  did  you  do  with  it.-*  " 

Swithin  clapped  his  hand  to  his  pocket.  "Dear  me! 
I  recollect — I  left  it  where  it  lay  on  Reuben  Heath's 
tombstone." 

' '  Oh,  my  dear,  dear  Swithin ! "  she  cried  miserably. 
"You  have  compromised  me  by  your  forgetfulness !  I 
have  claimed  the  article  as  mine.  My  brother  did  not 
tell  me  that  the  Bishop  brought  it  from  the  cabin.  What 
can  I,  can  I  do,  that  neither  the  Bishop  nor  my  brother 
rnay  conclude  /  was  the  woman  there  1" 


TfVO    ON  A    TOWER.  247 

"  Bui  if  we  announce  our  marriage  " — 

"  Even  as  your  wife,  the  position  was  too  undignified — 
too  1  don't  l<now  what — for  nic  ever  to  admit  that.I  was 
iherej  Right  or  wrong,  I  must  declare  the  bracelet  was 
not  mine.  Such  an  escapade — why,  it  would  make  me 
ridiculous  in  the  county;  and  anything  rather  than  that." 

"  I  was  in  hope  that  you  would  agree  to  let  our  mar- 
riage be  known,"  said  Swithin,  with  some  disappoint- 
ment. "  I  thought  that  these  circumstances  would  make 
the  reason  for  doing  so  doubly  strong." 

"Yes.  But  there  are,  alas,  reasons  against  it  still 
stronger  !     Let  me  have  my  way. " 

"Certainly,  dearest.  I  promised  that  before  you 
agreed  to  be  mine.  My  reputation, — what  is  it!  Per- 
haps I  shall  be  dead  and  forgotten  before  the  next  transit 
of  Venus ! " 

She  soothed  him  tenderly,  but  could  not  tell  him  why 
she  felt  the  reasons  against  any  announcement  as  yet  to 
be  stronger  than  those  in  favor  of  it.  How  could  she, 
when  her  feeling  had  been  cautiously  fed  and  developed 
by  her  brother  Louis's  unvarnished  exhibition  of  Swithin  s 
material  position  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.? — that  of  a 
young  man,  the  scion  of  a  family  of  farmers  recently  her 
tenants,  living  at  the  homestead  with  his  grandmother, 
Mrs.  Martin. 

That  this  objection,  at  present  so  strong  in  her,  was 
only  temporary  she  quite  believed,  and  was  as  convinced 
of  his  coming  success  as  ever;  praying  and  hoping  for 
it  on  his  own  account  not  less  than  on  her  own.  She 
hoped  all  the  more  earnestly  from  an  occasional  twinge 
of  coriscience  on  the  question  whether  his  marriage  with 


24^  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

her  had  been  so  greatly  for  his  good  as  they  convention- 
ally assumed  it  to  be.  She  could  not  be  blind  to  the 
fact  that  she  had  agreed  to  the  step  as  much  for  her  own 
pleasure  as  from  a  disinterested  wish  to  release  his  mind 
from  a  distraction  which  was  fatal  to  his  studies;  that  had 
Swithin  never  seen  her  it  would  probably  have  been  far 
better  for  him  and  his  prospects,  since  (excepting  the 
equatorial)  she  had  brought  him  no  solid  help  as  yet, 
either  in  wealth  or  friends. 

To  soften  her  refusal,  she  said  in  declaring  it,  "One 
concession,  Swithin,  I  certainly  will  make.  I  will  see  you 
oftener.  I  will  come  to  the  cabin  and  tower  frequently; 
and  will  contrive,  too,  that  _you  come  to  the  house  occa- 
sionally. During  the  last  winter  we  passed  whole  weeks 
without  meeting:  don't  let  us  allow  that  to  happen  again." 

"Very  well,  dearest,"  said  Swithin  good  humoredly. 
"  I  don't  care  so  terribly  much  for  the  old  man's  opinion 
of  me,  after  all.  For  the  present,  then,  let  things  be  as 
:hey  are. " 

Nevertheless,  the  youth  felt  her  refusal  more  than  he 
owned;  but  the  unequal  temperament  of  Swithin's  age,  so 
soon  depressed  on  his  own  account,  was  also  soon  to  re- 
cover on  hers,  and  it  was  with  almost  a  child's  forgetful- 
ness  of  the  past  that  he  took  her  view  of  the  case. 

When  he  was  gone  she  hastily  re-entered  the  house. 
Her  brother  had  not  reappeared  from  upstairs;  but  she  was 
informed  that  Tabitha  Lark  was  waiting  to  see  her,  if  her 
ladyship  would  pardon  the  said  Tabitha  for  coming  so  late. 
Lady  Constant! ne  made  no  objection,  and  saw  the  young 
girl  at  (juce. 

When  Lady  Constantine  entered  the  waiting-room,  be- 


TIVO    OiV  A     rOWER.  249 

hokl   in  Tabitha's  outstretched  hand  lay  the  coral  orna- 
ment which  had  been  causing  Viviette  so  much  anxiety. 

"  I  guessed,  on  second  thoughts,  that  it  was  yours,  my 
lady,"  said  Tabitha,  with  rather  a  frightened  face.  "And 
so  I  have  brought  it  back." 

"  But  ln)W  did  )ou  come  by  it,  Tabitha.? " 

"Mr.  Glanville  gave  it  to  me;  he  must  have  thought  it 
was  mine.  I  took  it,  fancying  at  the  moment  that  he 
handed  it  to  me  because  I  happened  to  come  by  first  after 
he  had  found  it." 

Lady  Constantine  saw  how  the  situation  might  be  im- 
proved so  as  to  effect  her  deliverance  from  this  trouble- 
some little  web  of  evidence. 

"Oh,  you  can  keep  it,"  she  said  brightly.  "It  was 
very  good  of  you  to  bring  it  back.  But  keep  it  for  your 
very  own.  Take  Mr.  Glanville  at  his  word,  and  don't  ex- 
plain. And,  Tabitha,  divide  the  strands  into  two  brace- 
lets; there  are  enough  of  them  to  make  a  pair." 

The  next  morning,  in  pursuance  of  his  resolution,  Louis 
wandered  round  the  grounds  till  he  saw  the  girl  for  whom 
he  was  wailing  enter  the  church.  He  accosted  her  over 
the  wall.  15at,  puzzling  to  view,  a  coral  bracelet  blushed 
on  each  of  her  young  arms,  for  she  had  promptly  carried 
out  the  suggestion  of  Lady  Constantine. 

"You  are  wearing  it,  I  see,  Tabitha,  with  the  other," 
he  murmured.      "  Then  you  mean  to  keep  it  .•*  " 

' '  Yes,  I  mean  to  keep  it. " 

"You  are  sure  it  is  not  Lady  Constantine's.  I  find  she 
has  one  like  it." 

"()uiie  sure.  But  you  had  better  take  it  to  her,  sir, 
and  ask  her,"  said  the  saucy  girl. 


250  TIVO    ON   A     TOWER. 

"Oh,  no;  that's  not  necessary,"  replied  Louis,  consider- 
ably shaken  in  his  convictions. 

When  Louis  met  his  sister,  a  short  time  after,  he  did 
not  catch  her,  as  he  had  intended  to  do,  by  saying  sud- 
denly, "  I  have  found  your  bracelet.  I  know  who  has  got 
it.  '• 

"You  cannot  have  found  it,"  she  replied  quietly,  "for 
I  have  discovered  that  it  was  never  lost,"  and  stretching 
out  both  her  hands  she  revealed  one  on  each,  Viviette  hav- 
ing performed  the  same  operation  with  her  remaining 
bracelet  that  she  had  advised  Tabitha  to  do  with  the  other. 

Louis  was  mystified,  but  by  no  means  convinced.  In 
spite  of  this  attempt  to  hoodwink  him,  his  mind  returned 
to  the  subject  every  hour  of  the  day.  There  was  no  doubt 
that  either  Tabitha  or  Viviette  had  been  with  Swithin  in 
the  cabin.  He  recapitulated  every  case  that  had  occurred 
during  his  visit  to  Welland  in  which  his  sister's  manner 
had  been  of  a  color  to  justify  the  suspicion  that  it  was 
she.  There  was  that  strange  incident  in  the  corridor, 
when  she  had  screamed  at  what  she  described  to  be  a 
shadowy  resemblance  to  her  late  husband:  how  veiy  im- 
probable that  this  fancy  should  have  been  the  only  cause 
of  her  agitation  !  Then  he  had  noticed,  during  Swithin's 
confirmation,  a  blush  upon  her  cheek  when  he  passed  her, 
on  his  wav  to  the  Bishop,  and  the  fen'or  in  her  glance 
(ir,ring  the  few  moments  of  the  imposition  of  hands.  Then 
he  suddenly  recalled  the  night  at  the  railway  station,  when 
the  accident  with  the  whip  took  place,  and  how,  when  he 
reached  Welland  House,  an  hour  later,  he  had  found  no 
Viviette  there.  Running  thus  from  incident  to  incident, 
he  increased  his  suspicions  without  being  able  to  cuU 


TfVO    ON  A    TOWER.  251 

from  the  circumstances  anything  amounting  to  evidence; 
but  evidence  he  now  determined  to  acquire  without  saying 
a  word  to  any  one. 

His  plan  was  of  a  cruel  kind:  to  set  a  trap  into  which 
the  pair  would  blindly  walk,  if  any  secret  understanding 
existed  between  them  of  the  nature  he  suspected. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

T    OUIS  began  his  stratagem  by  calling  at  the  tower  one 
-*-^     afternoon,  as  if  on  the  spur  of  the  moment. 

After  a  friendly  chat  with  Swithin,  whom  he  found  there 
(having  watched  him  enter),  Louis  invited  the  young  man 
to  dine  the  same  evening  at  the  house,  that  he  might 
have  an  opportunity  of  showing  him  some  interesting  old 
scientific  works  in  folio,  which,  according  to  Louis's  ac- 
count, he  had  stumbled  on  in  overhauling  the  library. 
Louis  set  no  great  bait  for  St.  Cleeve  in  this  statement, 
for  old  science  was  not  old  art,  which,  having  perfected 
itself,  has  died  and  left  its  secret  hidden  in  its  remains. 
But  Swithin  was  a  responsive  fellow,  and  readily  agreed 
to  come,  being,  moreover,  always  glad  of  a  chance  of 
meeting  Viviette  en  familh.  Besides,  he  hoped  to  tell 
her  of  a  scheme  that  had  lately  suggested  itself  to  him  as 
likely  to  benefit  them  both:  that  he  should  go  away  foi 
a  while,  and  endeavor  to  raise  suffic'ent  funds  to  visit  the 
great  observatories  of  Europe,  possibly  with  a  view  to 
obtaining  a  post  in  one  of  them.  Hilhciti)  llif  or.'y  lur 
to  the  plan  had  been  the  exceeding  narrowness  of  his 
income,  which,  though  sufficient  for  his  present  life,  was 


TPVO    ON  A    TOWER.  253 

absolutely  inadequate  to  the  requirements  of  a  traveling 
astronomer. 

Meanwhile,  Louis  Glanville  had  returned  to  the  house, 
and  told  his  sister  in  the  most  innocent  manner  that  he 
had  been  in  the  company  of  St.  Cleeve  that  afternoon, 
getting  a  few  wrinkles  on  astronomy:  that  they  had  grown 
so  friendly  over  the  fascinating  subject  as  to  leave  him 
no  alternative  but  to  invite  St.  Cleeve  to  dine  at  Welland 
the  same  evening,  with  a  view  to  certain  researches  in 
the  library  afterwards. 

"  I  could  quite  make  allowances  for  any  youthful  errors 
into  which  the  young  man  may  have  been  betrayed,"  he 
continued  sententiously,  "since,  for  a  scientist,  he  is 
really  admirable.  No  doubt  the  Bishop's  caution  will 
not  be  lost  upon  him;  and  as  for  his  birth  and  connections, 
— those  he  can't  help." 

Lady  Constantine  showed  such  alacrity  in  adopting  the 
idea  of  having  Swithin  to  dinner,  and  she  ignored  his 
"youthful  errors"  so  completely,  as  almost  to  betray 
herself  In  fulfillment  of  her  promise  to  see  him  oftener, 
she  had  been  intending  to  run  across  to  Swithin  on  that 
identical  evening.  Now  the  trouble  would  be  saved  in 
a  very  delightful  way,  by  the  exercise  of  a  little  hospitality, 
which  Viviette  herself  would  not  have  dared  to  susrsrest. 

Dinner-time  came,  and  with  it  Swithin,  exhibiting  rather 
a  blushing  and  nervous  manner  that  was,  unfortunately, 
more  likely  to  betray  their  cause  than  was  Viviette's  own 
more  practiced  bearing.  Throughout  the  meal  Louis  sat 
like  a  spider  in  the  corner  of  his  web,  observing  them  nar- 
rowly, and  at  moments  flinging  out  an  artful  thread,  here 
and  there,  with  a  view  to  their  entanglement. 


254  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

But  they  underwent  the  ordeal  marvelously  well.  V:x- 
haps  the  actual  tie  between  them,  through  being  so  mucli 
closer  and  of  so  much  more  practical  a  nature  than  even 
their  critic  supposed  it,  was  in  itself  a  protection  against 
their  exhibiting  that  ultra-reciprocity  of  manner  which,  had 
they  been  merel}'  lovers,  might  have  betrayed  them. 

After  dinner  the  trio  duly  adjourned  to  the  library,  as 
had  been  planned,  and  the  volumes  were  brought  forth  by 
Louis  with  the  zest  of  a  bibliophilist.  Swithin  had  seen 
most  of  them  before,  and  thought  but  litde  of  them;  but 
the  pleasure  of  staying  in  the  house  made  him  welcome 
any  reason  for  doing  so,  and  he  willingly  looked  at  what- 
ever was  put  before  him,  from  Bertius's  Ptolemy  to  Rees's 
Cyclopasdia. 

The  evening  thus  passed  away,  and  it  began  to  grow 
late.  Swithin,  who,  among  other  things,  had  planned  to 
go  to  Greenwich  next  day,  to  view  the  Royal  Observatory, 
would  start  up  and  prepare  to  leave  for  home,  every  now 
and  then,  when  Glanville  would  unearth  some  other  vol- 
ume, and  so  detain  him  yet  another  half-hour. 

"By  George!"  he  said,  looking  at  the  clock,  when 
Swithin  was  at  last  really  about  to  depart.  "I  didn't  know 
it  was  so  late.  Why  not  stay  here  to-night,  St.  Cleeve .'' 
It  is  very  dark,  and  the  way  to  your  place  is  an  awkward 
cross-cut  over  the  fields." 

"It  would  not  inconvenience  us  at  all,  Mr.  St.  Cleeve, 
if  you  would  care  to  stay,"  said  Lady  Constantine. 

"I  am  afraid —  The  fact  is,  I  wanted  to  take  an  ob- 
servation at  twenty   minutes  past  two" — began   Swithin. 

"Oh,  now,  nevermind  your  cbservation,'"  said  Louis. 
"That's    only    an  .excuse.      Do    that    to-morrow    night. 


TJVO    ON  A    TOWER.  255 

iMow  you  will  stay.  It  is  settled.  Viviette,  say  he  must 
stay,  and  we'll  have  another  hour  of  these  charming  intel- 
lectual researches." 

Viviette  obeyed  with  delightful  ease.  "  Do  stay,  Mr.  St. 
Cleeve  !  "  she  said  sweetly. 

"Well,  in  truth  I  can  do  without  the  observation,"  re- 
plied the  young  man,  as  he  gave  way.  "It  is  not  of  the 
greatest  consequence. " 

Thus  it  was  arranged;  but  the  researches  among  the 
tomes  were  not  prolonged  to  the  extent  that  Louis  had  sug- 
gested. In  three  quarters  of  an  hour  from  that  time  they 
had  all  retired  to  their  respective  rooms;  Lady  Constantine's 
being  on  one  side  of  the  west  corridor,  Swithin's  opposite, 
and  Louis's  at  the  further  end. 

Had  a  person  followed  Louis  when  he  withdrew,  that 
watcher  would  have  discovered,  on  peeping  through  the 
keyhole  of  his  door,  that  he  was  engaged  in  one  of  the 
oddest  of  occupations  for  such  a  man, — sweeping  down 
from  the  ceiling,  by  means  of  a  walking-cane,  a  long  cob- 
web which  lingered  on  high  in  the  corner.  Keeping  it 
stretched  upon  the  cane,  he  gently  opened  the  door,  and 
set  the  candle  in  such  a  position  on  the  mat  that  the  light 
shone  down  the  corridor.  Thus  guided  by  its  rays,  he 
passed  outslipperless,  till  he  reached  the  door  of  St.  Cleeve 's 
room,  where  he  applied  the  dangling  spider's  thread  in  such  a 
manner  that  it  stretched  across,  like  a  tight  rope,  from 
jamb  to  jamb,  barring,  in  its  fragile  way,  entrance  and 
egress  'J"he  operation  completed,  he  retired  again,  and, 
extinguishing  his  light,  went  through  his  bedroom  window 
out  upon  the  flat  roof  of  the  portico,  to  which  it  gave  access. 

Here  Louis  m.ide  himself  comfnrtablc  in  his  chair  and 


256  TWO    aV  A    TOWER. 

smoking-cap,  enjoying  the  fragrance  of  a  cigar  for  some- 
tliing  like  half  an  hour.  His  position  commanded  a  view 
of  the  two  windows  of  Lady  Constantine's  room,  and  from 
these  a  dim  light  shone  continuously.  Having  the  win- 
dow partly  open  at  his  back,  and  the  door  of  his  room 
also  scarcelv  closed,  his  ear  retained  a  fair  command  of 
any  sounds  that  might  be  caused  by  meeting  and  whisper- 
ing lovers,  either  in  the  corridor,  or  out  upon  the  lawn. 

In  due  time  certain  sounds  became  audible;  whereupon, 
returning  to  his  room,  he  re-entered  the  corridor,  and  lis- 
tened intently.  All  was  silent  again,  and  darkness  reigned 
from  end  to  end.  Glanville,  however,  groped  his  way 
along  the  passage  till  he  again  reached  Swithin's  door, 
where  he  examined,  by  the  light  of  a  wax-match  he  had 
brought,  the  condition  of  the  spider's  thread.  It  was 
gone;  somebody  had  carried  it  off  bodily,  as  Samson  car- 
ried off  the  pin  and  the  web.  In  other  words,  a  person 
had  passed  through  the  door. 

Still  holding  the  faint  wax-light  in  his  hand,  Louis 
turned  to  the  door  of  Lady  Constantine's  chamber,  where 
he  observed  first  that,  though  it  was  pushed  together  so  as 
to  appear  fiistened  to  cursory  view,  the  door  was  not  really 
closed  by  about  quarter  of  an  inch.  He  dropped  his  light, 
and  extinguished  it  with  his  foot.  Listening,  he  heard  a 
voice  within, — Viviette's  voice,  in  a  subdued  murmur, 
though  speaking  earnestly. 

Without  any  hesitation,  Louis  then  returned  to  Swith- 
in's door,  opened  it,  and  walked  in.  The  starlight  from 
without  was  sufficient,  now  that  his  eyes  had  become  ac- 
customed to  the  darkness,  to  reveal  that  the  room  was  un- 
occupied, and  that  nothing  therein  had  been  disturbed. 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  257 

With  a  heavy  tread  Louis  came  forth,  walked  loudly 
across  the  corridor,  knocked  at  Lady  Constantine's  door, 
and  called  "  Viviette  !  " 

She  heard  him  instantly,  replying  "Yes"  in  startled 
tones.  Immediately  afterwards  she  opened  her  door,  and 
confronted  him  in  her  dressing-gown,  with  a  light  in  her 
hand.      "  What  is  the  matter,  Louis?"  she  said. 

"  I  am  greatly  alarmed.      Our  visitor  is  missing." 

"Missing.?     What,  I\Ir.  St.  Cleeve.?" 

"Yes.  I  was  sitting  up  to  finish  a  cigar,  when  I 
thought  I  heard  a  noise  in  this  direction.  On  coming  to 
his  room,  I  find  he  is  not  there." 

' '  Good  Heaven  !  I  wonder  what  has  happened  !  "  she 
exclaimed,  in  apparently  intense  alarm. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Glanville  grimly. 

"Suppose  he  is  a  somnambulist !  If  so,  he  may  have 
gone  out  and  broken  his  neck.  I  have  never  heard  that 
he  is  one,  but  they  say  that  sleeping  in  strange  places  dis- 
turbs the  mind  of  people  who  are  given  to  that  sort  of 
thing,  and  provokes  them  to  it." 

"  Unfortunately  for  your  theory,  his  bed  has  not  been 
touched. " 

"Oh,  what  then  can  it  be.'  " 

Her  brother  looked  her  full  in  the  face.  "Viviette  !  " 
he  said  sternly. 

She  seemed  puzzled.  "  Well .'"  she  replied,  in  simple 
tones. 

"  I  heard  voices  in  your  room,"  he  continued. 

"Voices.?" 

' '  A  voice, — yours. " 

"Yes,  you  w\\\  have  done  so.      It  was  mine." 


258  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"A  listener  is  required  for  a  speaker." 

"True,  Louis." 

"  Well,  to  whom  were  you  speaking? " 

"God." 

"  Viviette  !     I  am  ashamed  of  you." 

' '  I  was  saying  my  prayers. " 

"Prayers — to  God  !     To  St.  Swithin,  rather!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Louis.?"  she  asked,  flushing  up 
warm,  and  drawing  back  from  him.  "It  was  a  form  of 
prayer  I  use,  particularly  when  I  am  in  trouble.  It  was 
recommended  to  me  by  the  Bishop,  and  Mr.  Torkingham 
commends  it  very  highly." 

"On  your  honor,  if  you  have  any,"  he  said  bitterly, 
"whom  have  you  there  in  your  room  !  " 

"No  human  being.'' 

"Flatly,  I  don't  believe  you." 

She  gave  a  dignified  little  bow,  and,  waving  her  hand 
into  the  apartment,  said,  "Very  well;  then  search  and  see." 

Louis  entered,  and  glanced  round  the  room,  behind 
the  curtains,  under  the  bed,  out  of  the  window, — a  view 
from  which  showed  that  escape  thence  would  have  been 
impossible, — everywhere,  in  short,  capable  or  incapable 
of  affording  a  retreat  to  humanity;  but  discovered  nobody. 
All  he  observed  was  that  a  light  stood  on  the  low  table  by 
her  bedside;  that  on  the  bed  lay  an  open  Prayer  Book,  the 
counterpane  being  unpressed,  except  into  a  little  pit  be- 
side the  Prayer  Book,  apparently  where  her  head  had 
rested  in  kneeling. 

"But  where  is  St.  Cleeve.?"  he  said,  turning  in  be- 
wilderment from  these  evidences  of  innocent  devotion. 

"Where  can  he  be.?"  she  chimed  in,  with  real  distress 


TfVO    ON  A     TOWER.  259 

"I  should  so  much  Hke  to  know.     Look  about  for  him. 
I  am  quite  uneasy  !  " 

"  I  will,  on  one  condition:  that  you  own  that  you  love 
him. " 

"Why  should  you  force  me  to  that?  "  she  murmured. 
*'  It  would  be  no  such  wonder  if  I  did." 

' '  Come,  you  do .''  " 

"Well,  I  do." 

"Now  I'll  look  for  him." 

Louis  look  a  light,  and  t»rned  away,  his  ignorance 
of  her  legal  relation  to  Swithiu  leaving  him  astonished  that 
his  sister  had  not  indignantly  resented  his  intrusion  and 
the  nature  of  his  questioning. 

At  this  moment  a  slight  noise  was  heard  on  tlie  stair- 
case, and  they  could  see  a  figure  rising  step  by  step,  and 
coming  forward  against  the  long  lights  of  the  staircase 
window.  It  was  Swithin,  in  his  ordinary  dress,  and 
carrying  his  boots  in  his  hand. 

When  he  beheld  them  standing  there  so  motionless,  he 
looked  rather  disconcerted,  but  came  on  towards  his  room. 

Lady  ConsLantine  was  too  much  agitated  to  speak,  but 
Louis  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again.  Hearing  a  noise, 
a  few  minutes  ago,  I  came  out  to  leain  what  it  could  be. 
I  found  you  absent,  and  we  have  been  very  much  alarmed." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Swithin,  with  contrition.  "I 
owe  you  a  hundred  apologies:  but  the  truth  is  that  on 
entering  my  bedroom  I  found  the  sky  remarkably  clear, 
and  though  I  told  you  that  the  observation  I  was  to  make 
was  of  no  great  consequence,  on  thinking  it  over  alone 
I  felt  it  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  pass;  so  I  was  tempted 
to  run  across  to  the  observatory,  and  make  it,  a,s  I  hacj 


26o  TWO    O.V  A    TOWER. 

hoped,  without  disturbing  anybody.  If  I  had  kno\*n  that 
I  should  alarm  you  I  would  not  have  done  it  for  the  world. " 

Swithin  spoke  very  earnestly  to  Louis,  and  did  not  ob- 
serve the  tender  reproach  in  Viviette's  eyes,  when  he  showed 
by  his  tale  his  decided  notion  that  the  prime  use  of  star- 
light nights  was  their  furtherance  of  practical  astronomy. 

Everything  being  now  satisfactorily  explained,  the  three 
retired  to  their  several  chambers,  and  Louis  heard  no  more 
noises  that  night,  or  rather  morning;  his  attempts  to  solve 
the  myster}'  of  Viviette's  Hie  here  and  her  relations  with 
St.  Cleeve  having  thus  far  resulted  chiefly  in  perplexity. 
True,  an  admission  had  been  wrung  from  her;  and  even 
without  such  an  admission,  it  was  clear  that  she  had  a 
tender  feeling  for  Swithin.  How  to  extinguish  that  ro- 
mantic folly  it  now  became  his  object  to  consider. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

SWITHIN'S  midnight  excursion  to  the  tower  in  the 
cause  of  science  led  him  to  oversleep  himself,  and 
when  the  brother  and  sister  met  at  breakfast  in  the  morn- 
ing he  did  not  appear. 

"Don't  disturb  him, — don't  disturb  him,"  said  Louis 
laconically.  "Hullo,  Viviette,  what  are  you  reading  there 
that  makes  you  flame  up  so  ?  " 

She  was  glancing  over  a  letter  that  she  had  just  opened, 
and  at  his  words  looked  up  with  misgiving. 

The  incident  of  the  previous  night  left  her  in  great 
doubt  as  to  what  her  bearing  towards  him  ought  to  be. 
She  had  made  no  show  of  resenting  his  conduct  at  the 
time,  from  a  momentary  supposition  that  he  must  know 
all  her  secret;  and  afterwards,  finding  that  he  did  not 
know  it,  it  seemed  too  late  to  affect  indignation  at  his 
suspicions.  So  she  pres3rved  a  quiet  neutrality.  Even 
had  she  resolved  on  an  artificial  part,  she  might  have  for- 
gotten to  play  it  at  this  instant,  the  letter  being  of  a  kind 
to  banish  previous  considerations. 

"It  is  a  letter  from  Bishop  Helmsdale,"  she  faltered. 

"Well  done  !     I  hope  for  your  sake  it  is  an  offer." 


262  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"That's  just  what  it  is." 

"No, — surely?"  said  Louis,  beginning  a  laugh  of 
surprise. 

"Yes,"  she  returned  indifferently.  "You  can  read  it, 
if  yoii  like." 

"I  don't  wish  to  pry  into  a  communication  of  that 
sort. " 

"Oh,  you  can  read  it,"  she  said,  tossing  the  letter  across 
to  him. 

Louis  thereupon  read  as  under: — 


The  Palace,  Melchester, 
June  28, 


tiELCHESTER,  1 
?,  18-.  \ 


Mv  DEAR  Lady  Constantine, — During  the  two  or  three  weeks 
thai  have  elapsed  since  I  experienced  the  great  pleasure  of  renewing 
my  acquaintance  with  you,  the  varied  agitation  of  my  feelings  has 
clearly  proved  that  my  only  course  is  to  address  you  by  letter,  and  at 
once.  Whether  tlie  subject  of  my  communication  be  acceptable  to 
you  or  not,  I  can  at  least  assure  you  that  to  suppress  it  would  be  far 
less  natural,  and  upon  the  whole  less  advisable,  than  to  speak  out 
frankly,  even  if  afterwards  I  hold  my  peace  forever. 

The  great  change  in  my  experience  during  the  past  year  or  two — 
the  change,  that  is,  which  has  resulted  from  my  advancement  to  a 
bishopric — has  frequently  suggested  to  me,  of  late,  that  a  discontinu- 
ance in  my  domestic  life  of  the  solitude  of  past  years  was  a  question 
which  ought  to  be  seriously  contemplated.  But  whether  I  should 
ever  have  contemplated  it  without  the  great  good  fortune  of  my  meet- 
ing with  you  is  doubtful.  However,  the  thing  has  been  considered 
at  last,  and  without  more  ado  I  candidly  ask  if  you  would  be  willing 
to  give  up  your  life  at  Welland,  and  relieve  my  household  lonelmess 
here  by  becoming  my  wife. 

I  am  far  frqna  desiring  to  force  a  hurried  decision  on  your  part,  and 
will  wait  your  good  pleasure  patiently,  should  you  feel  any  uncer- 
tainty at  the  moment  as  to  the  step.  I  am  quite  disqualified,  by  habits 
and  experience,  for  the  delightful  procedure  of  urging  my  suit  |n  tlie 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  263 

arderii  terms  which  would  he.  so  appropriate  towards  such  a  lady,  and 
so  expressive  of  my  inmost  fcelin;^.  In  tiuth,  a  prosy  cleric  of  five- 
and-finiy  wants  cncoura.,'ement  to  make  him  eloijuent.  Of  this,  how- 
ever, I  can  assure  you:  that  if  admiration,  esteem,  and  devotion  can 
compensate  in  any  way  for  ihe  lacl<  of  those  qualities  which  might 
be  found  to  burn  with  more  outward  brightness  in  a  younger  man, 
those  it  is  in  my  power  to  l)Cstow  f  )r  the  term  of  my  earthly  life. 
Your  steady  adherence  to  church  principles  and  your  interest  in  ec- 
clesiastical polity  (as  was  shown  by  your  bright  questioning  on  those 
subjects  during  our  morning  walk  round  your  grounds)  have  indicated 
strongly  to  me  the  grace  and  appro])riateness  with  which  you  would 
fill  the  position  of  a  bishop's  wife,  and  how  greatly  you  would  add 
to  his  reputation,  should  you  be  disposed  to  honor  him  with  your 
hand.  Formerly  there  have  been  times  when  I  was  of  opinion — and 
you  will  rightly  appreciate  my  candor  in  owning  it— that  a  wife  was 
an  impediment  to  a  bishop's  due  activities:  but  constant  observation 
has  convinced  me  that,  far  from  this  being  the  truth,  a  nieet  consort 
infuses  life  into  episcopal  influence  and  teaching. 

Should  you  reply  in  the  affirmative  I  will  at  once  come  to  see  you, 
and  with  your  permission  will,  among  other  things,  show  you  a  few 
plain,  practical  rules  which  I  have  interested  myself  in  drawing  up 
for  our  future  guidance.  Should  you  refuse  to  change  your  condition 
on  my  account,  your  decision  will,  as  1  need  hardly  say,  be  a  great 
blow  to  me.  In  any  event,  I  could  not  do  less  than  I  have  done, 
after  giving  the  subject  my  full  consideration.  Even  if  there  be  a 
slight  deficiency  of  warmth  on  your  part,  my  earnest  hope  is  that  a 
mind  comprehensive  as  yours  will  perceive  the  immense  power  foi 
good  that  you  might  exercise  in  the  position  in  which  a  union  with 
me  would  place  you,  and  allow  that  perception  to  weigh  in  deter- 
mining your  answer. 

I  remain,  my  dear  Lady  Constantine,  with  the  highest  respect  and 
affection.  Yours  always, 

C.  Melchester. 

"Well,  vou  will  not  have  the  foolhardiness  to  decline, 
now  that  the  question  has  actually  been  popped,  I  shotilc^ 
hope,"  said  Louis,  when  he  had  done  reading. 


264  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"Certainly  I  shall,"  she  replied. 

"You  will  reallv  be  such  a  flat,  Viviette  ?  " 

"You  speak  without  much  compliment.  I  have  not 
the  least  idea  of  accepting  him." 

"Surely  you  will  not  let  your  infatuation  for  that  young 
follow  carry  you  so  far,  after  my  acquainting  you  with  the 
shady  side  of  his  character.'  You  call  yourself  a  religious 
woman,  say  your  prayers  out  loud,  follow  up  the  revived 
methods  in  church  practice,  and  what  not;  and  yet  you  can 
think  with  partiality  of  a  person  who,  far  from  having  any 
religion  in  him,  breaks  the  most  elementary  command- 
ments in  the  decalogue. " 

"I  cannot  agree  with  you,"  she  said,  turning  her  face 
askance,  for  she  knew  not  how  much  of  her  brother's  lan- 
guage was  sincere,  and  how  much  assumed,  the  extent  of 
his  discoveries  with  regard  to  her  secret  ties  being  a  mys- 
tery. At  moments  she  was  disposed  to  declare  the  whole 
truth,  and  have  done  with  it.  But  she  hesitated,  and  left 
the  words  unsaid;  and  Louis  continued  his  breakfast  in 
silence. 

When  he  had  finished,  and  she  had  eaten  little  or  noth- 
ing, he  asked  once  more,  "  How  do  you  intend  to  answer 
that  letter }  Here  you  are,  the  poorest  woman  in  the  coun- 
tv,  abandoned  by  people  who  used  to  be  glad  to  know 
you,  and  leading  a  life  as  dismal  and  dreary  as  a  nun's, 
when  an  opportunity  is  offered  you  of  leaping  at  once  into 
a  leading  position  in  this  part  of  England.  Bishops  are 
given  to  hospitality;  you  would  be  welcomed  ever}'wbere. 
In  short,  your  answer  must  be  yes." 

"And  yet  it  will  be  no,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  She 
had  at  length  learnt,  from  the  tone  of  her  brother's  latter 


T^VO    ON  A    TOWER.  265 

remarks,  that  at  any  rate  he  had  no  knowledge  of  her  act- 
ual marriage,  whatever  indirect  ties  he  might  suspect  her 
guilty  of. 

Louis  could  restrain  himself  no  longer  at  her  answer. 
■■Then  conduct  your  affliirs  your  own  way.  I  know  you 
to  be  leading  a  life  that  won't  bear  investigation,  and  I'm 
DAMNED  if  I'll  stay  here  any  longer." 

Saying  which,  Glanville  jerked  back  his  chair,  and 
strode  out  of  the  room.  In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
and  before  she  had  moved  a  step  Iron  the  table,  she  heard 
him  leaving  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

T  X  THAT  to  do  she  could  not  tell.  The  step  to  which 
*  ^  Swithin  had  entreated  her,  objectionable  and  pre- 
mature as  it  had  seemed,  in  a  county  aspect,  would  at 
all  events  have  saved  her  from  this  dilemma.  Had  she 
allowed  him  to  tell  the  Bishop  his  simple  story  in  its 
fullness,  who  could  say  but  that  that  divine  might  have 
generously  bridled  his  own  impulses,  entered  into  the 
case  with  sympathy,  and  forwarded  with  zest  their  designs 
for  the  future,  owing  to  his  interest  of  old  in  Swithin's 
father,  and  in  the  naturally  attractive  features  of  the  young 
man's  career  ? 

A  puff  of  wind  from  the  open  window,  wafting  the 
Bishop's  letter  to  the  floor,  aroused  her  from  her  reverie. 
With  a  sigh  she  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  glanced  at  it 
again;  then  aro!-e,  and  with  the  deliberateness  of  inevitable 
action  wrote  her  reply: — 

Wrlland  House,  yiote  29,  18-^. 
My  dear  Bishop  of  Melchester, — I  confess  to  you  that  youv 
letter,  so  gracious  and  flattering  as  it  is,  has  taken  your  friend  some- 
what unawares.     Tlie  least  I  can  do  in  return  for  its  contents  is  to 
reply  as  quickly  as  possible, 


TH^O    OAT  A    TOWER.  iGj 

There  is  no  one  in  the  world  who  esteems  your  hi;;^h  qualities  more 
than  myself,  or  who  has  greater  faith  in  your  ability  to  adorn  the 
episcopal  seat  that  you  have  been  called  on  to  fill.  But  to  your 
question  I  can  give  only  one  reply,  and  that  is  an  unqualified  nega- 
tive. To  state  this  unavoidable  decision  distresses  me,  without  af- 
fectation; and  I  trust  you  will  believe  that,  though  I  decline  the 
distinction  of  becoming  your  wife,  I  shall  never  cease  to  interest 
myself  in  all  that  pertains  to  you  and  your  office;  and  shall  feel  the 
keenest  regret  if  this  refusal  should  interfere  to  prevent  a  lifelong 
friendship  between  us. 

I  am,  my  dear  Bishop  of  Melchester, 

Ever  sincerely  yours, 

VlVIETTE    . 

"  Viviette  what .' "  she  exclaimed  to  herself  hopelessly, 
as  she  flung  down  the  pen. 

A  sudden  revulsion  from  the  subterfuge  of  signing  her- 
self "  Viviette  Constantine, "  in  a  letter  of  this  serious  sort, 
and  the  impracticability  of  using  another  signature  for  the 
present,  wrought  in  her  mind  a  feeling  of  dissatisfaction 
with  the  whole  epistle,  and  pushing  it  aside  she  allowed 
it  to  remain  unsubscribed. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  heard  Swithin  approaching;  w-hen 
she  put  the  letter  out  of  the  way,  and  turned  to  receive 
him. 

Swithin  entered  quietly,  and  looked  round  the  room. 
Seeing,  with  unexpected  pleasure,  that  she  was  there 
alone,  he  came  over  and  kissed  her.  Her  discomposure 
at  some  foregone  event  was  soon  obvious. 

"  Has  my  staying  caused  you  any  trouble? ''  he  asked, 
in  a  whisper.      "Where  is  a  our  brother,  this  morning.?  " 

She  smiled  through  her  perplexity  as  she  took  his 
hand. 


268  TJVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"The  oddest  things  happen  to  me,  dear  Swithin,"  she 
said.  "Do  you  wish  particularly  to  know  what  has  hap- 
pened now  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  you  don't  mind  telling  me." 

"I  do  mind  telling  you.  But  I  must.  Among  other 
things,  I  am  resolving  to  give  way  to  your  representa- 
tions,— in  part,  at  least.  It  will  be  best  to  tell  the  Bishop 
everything,  and  my  brother,  if  not  other  people. "' 

"I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  it,  Viviette,"  said  he  cheer- 
fully. "I  have  felt  for  a  long  time  that  honesty  is  the 
best  policy. " 

"  I  at  any  rate  feel  it  now.  But  it  is  a  policy  that  re- 
quires a  great  deal  of  courage  ! '' 

"It  certainly  requires  some  courage, — I  should  not 
say  a  great  deal;  and  indeed  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it 
demands  less  courage  to  speak  out  than  to  hold  my 
tongue." 

"But,  you  silly  boy,  you  don't  know  what  has  hap- 
pened.     The  Bishop  has  made  me  an  offer  of  marriage."' 

"Good  gracious,  what  an  impertinent  old  man  !  What 
have  you  done  about  it,  dearest  .-*  " 

"Well,  I  have  hardly  accepted  him,"  she  replied,  laugh- 
ing. "It  is  this  event  which  has  suggested  to  me  thai  I 
make  my  refusal  a  reason  for  confiding  our  situation  to 
him." 

"What  would  vou  have  done  if  vou  had  not  been  al- 
ready  appropriated }  " 

"That's  an  inscrutable  mystery.  He  is  a  worthy 
man;  but  he  has  very  pronounced  views  about  his  own 
position,  and  some  other  undesirable  qualities.  Still, 
who  knows  ?     You  must  bless  your  stars  that  you  have 


TH^O    OAT  A    TOWER.  269 

secured  me.  Now  let  us  consider  liow  to  draw  up  our 
confession  to  him.  I  wish  I  had  hstened  to  you  at  the 
first,  and  allowed  you  to  take  him  into  our  confidence 
before  hi.-'  declaration  arrived.  He  may  possibly  resent 
the  concealment  now.      However,  this  cannot  be  helped." 

"I  tell  you  what,  Viviette,"  said  Swithin,  after  a 
thoughtful  pause.  "If  the  Bishop  is  such  a  sort  of  man 
as  this,  a  man  who  goes  falling  in  love,  and  wanting  to 
marry  vou,  and  so  on,  I  am  not  disposed  to  confess  any- 
thing to  him  at  all.  I  fancied  him  altogether  different 
from  that." 

"But  he's  none  the  worse  for  it,  dear.?  " 

"I  think  he  is, — to  lecture  me  and  love  you,  all  in 
one  breath. " 

"Still,  that's  only  a  passing  phase,  and  you  first  pro- 
posed making  a  confidant  of  him." 

"I  did.  .  .  .  Very  well.  Then  we  are  to  tell  no- 
body but  the  Bishop  .'  " 

"And  my  brother  Louis.  I  must  tell  him;  it  is  un- 
avoidable. He  suspects  me  in  a  way  I  could  never  have 
credited  of  him." 

Swithin,  as  was  before  stated,  had  arranged  to  start 
for  Greenwich  that  morning,  permission  having  been  ac- 
corded him  by  the  Astronomer-Royal  to  view  the  Obser- 
vatory; and  their  final  decision  was  that,  as  he  could  not 
afford  time  to  sit  down  with  her,  and  write  to  the  Bishop 
in  collaboration,  each  should,  during  the  day,  compose  a 
well  considered  letter,  disclosing  their  position  from  his 
and  her  own  point  of  view;  Lady  Constantine  leading  up 
to  her  confession  by  her  refusal  of  the  Bishop's  hand.  It 
was  necessary  that  she  should  know  what  Swithin  contem- 


270  TH^O    ON  A    TOWER. 

plated  saying,  that  her  statements  might  precisely  har- 
monize. He  ultimately  agreed  to  send  her  his  letter  by 
the  next  morning's  post,  when  having  read  it,  she  would 
in  due  course  dispatch  it  with  her  own. 

As  soon  as  he  had  breakfasted  Swithin  went  his  way, 
promising  to  return  from  Greenwich  by  the  end  of  the 
week. 

Viviette  passed  the  remainder  of  that  long  summer  day, 
during  which  her  young  husband  was  receding  towards  the 
capital,  in  an  almost  motionless  state.  At  some  instants 
she  felt  exultant  at  the  idea  of  announcing  her  marriage, 
and  defying  general  opinion.  At  another  her  heart  mis- 
gave her,  and  she  was  tormented  by  a  fear  lest  Swithin 
should  some  day  accuse  her  of  having  hampered  his  delib- 
erately shaped  plan  of  life  by  her  intrusive  romanticism. 
That  was  often  the  trick  of  men  who  had  sealed  by  mar- 
riage, in  their  inexperienced  youth,  a  love  for  those  whom 
their  maturer  judgment  would  have  rejected  as  too 
obviously  disproportionate  in  years. 

However,  it  was  now  too  late  for  these  lugubrious 
thoughts;  and,  bracing  herself,  she  began  to  frame  the 
new  reply  to  Eishop  Helmsdale, — the  plain,  unvarnished 
tale  that  was  to  supplant  the  undivulgmg  answer  first  writ- 
ten. She  was  engaged  on  this  difficult  production  till 
daylight  faded  in  the  west,  and  the  broad-faced  moon 
edged  upward  like  a  plate  of  old  gold,  over  the  elms  tow- 
ards the  village.  B}-  that  time  Swithin  had  reached  Green- 
wich; hor  brother  had  gone  she  knevi  not  where;  and  she 
and  loneliness  dwell  solely,  as  before,  within  the  walls  of 
Welland  House. 

At  this  hour  of  sunset  and  moonrise,  the  new  parlor- 


TIFO    OAT  A    TOWER.  271 

maid  entered,  to  inform  her  that  Mr.  Cecil's  head  clerk, 
from  Warborne,  particularly  wished  to  see  her. 

Mr.  Cecil  was  her  solicitor,  and  she  knew  of  nothing 
whatever  that  required  his  intervention  just  at  present. 
But  he  would  not  have  sent  at  this  time  of  day  without 
excellent  reasons,  and  she  directed  that  the  young  man 
might  be  shown  in  where  she  was.  On  his  entry,  the 
first  thing  she  noticed  was  that  in  his  hand  he  carried  a 
newspaper. 

"  In  case  you  should  not  have  seen  this  evening's  paper, 
Lady  Constantine,  Mr.  Cecil  has  directed  me  to  bring  it 
to  you  at  once,  on  account  of  what  appears  there  in  re- 
lation to  your  ladyship.     He  has  only  just  seen  it  himself" 

"What  is  it .?     How  does  it  concern  me  ? " 

"  I  will  point  it  out." 

"Read  it  yourself  to  me.  Though  I  am  afraid  there's 
not  enough  light." 

"  I  can  see  very  well  here,"  said  the  lawyer's  clerk,  step- 
ping to  the  window.     Folding  back  the  paper  he  read: — 

NEWS    FROM    SOUTH    AFRICA. 

"  'Cape  Town,  May  17,  via  Plymouth. — A  correspon- 
dent of  the  Cape  Chronicle  states  that  he  has  interviewed 
an  Englishman  just  arrived  from  the  interior,  and  learns 
from  him  that  a  considerable  misapprehension  exists  in 
England  concerning  the  death  of  the  traveler  and  hunter, 
Sir  Blount  Constantine '  " — 

"Oh,  he's  living!  My  husband  is  alive!"  she  cried, 
sinking  down  in  nearly  a  fainting  condition. 

"No,  my  lady.  Sir  Blount  is  dead  enough,  I  am  sor- 
ry to  say. " 


272  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

"  Dead,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Lady  Constantine;  there  is  no  doubt  of  ic. " 

She  sat  up,  and  her  intense  relief  almost  made  itself 
perceptible  like  a  fresh  atmosphere  in  the  room.  "Yes. 
Then  what  did  you  come  for  ?  "  she  asked  calmly. 

"That  Sir  Blount  died  is  unquestionable,"  replied  the 
lawyer's  clerk  gently.  "  But  there  has  been  some  mistake 
about  the  date  of  his  death." 

"  He  died  of  malarious  fever  on  the  banks  of  the  Zonga, 
October  24,  18 — ." 

"No;  he  only  lay  ill  there  a  long  time  it  seems.  It  was 
a  companion  who  died  at  that  date.  But  I'll  read  the  ac- 
count to  vour  ladyship,  with  your  permission: — 

' '  '  The  decease  of  this  somewhat  eccentric  wanderer 
did  not  occur  at  the  time  hitherto  supposed,  but  only  in 
last  December.  The  following  is  the  account  of  the 
Englishman  alluded  to,  given  as  nearly  as  possible  in  his 
own  words:  During  the  illness  of  Sir  Blount  and  his 
friend  by  the  Zonga,  three  of  the  servants  went  away, 
taking  with  them  a  portion  of  his  clothing  and  effects; 
and  it  must  be  they  who  spread  the  report  of  his  death  at 
this  time.  After  his  companion's  death  he  mended,  and 
when  he  was  strong  enough  he  and  I  traveled  on  to  a 
healthier  district.  I  urged  him  not  to  delay  his  return 
to  England;  but  he  was  much  against  going  back  there 
again,  and  became  so  rough  in  his  manner  towards  me 
that  we  parted  company  at  the  first  opportunity  I  could 
find.  I  joined  a  party  of  white  traders  returning  to  the 
west  coast.  I  staid  here  among  the  Portuguese  for  many 
months.  I  then  found  that  an  English  traveling  part}' 
were  going  to  e.Kplore  a  district  adjoining  that  which   I 


TIFO    ON  A    TOWER.  273 

had  formerly  traversed  with  Sir  Blount.  They  said  they 
would  be  glail  of  my  services,  and  I  joined  them.  When 
we  had  crossed  the  territory  to  the  south  of  Ulunda,  and 
drew  near  to  Marzambo,  I  heard  tidings  of  a  man  living 
there  whom  I  suspected  to  be  Sir  Blount,  although  he 
was  not  known  by  that  name.  Being  so  near,  I  was  in- 
duced to  seek  him  out,  and  found  that  he  was  indeed  the 
same.  He  had  dropped  his  old  name  altogether,  and 
had  married  a  native  princess '  " — 

"  Married  a  native  princess.' "'  said  Lady  Constantino. 

"That's  what  it  says,  my  lady,  —  'married  a  native  prin- 
cess according  to  the  rites  of  the  tribe,  and  was  living  very 
happily  with  her.  He  told  me  he  should  never  return 
to  England  again.  He  also  told  me  that,  having  seen 
this  princess  just  after  I  had  left  him,  he  had  been  at- 
tracted by  her,  and  had  thereupon  decided  to  reside  with 
her  in  that  country,  as  being  a  land  which  afforded  him 
greater  happiness  than  he  could  hope  to  attain  elsewhere. 
He  asked  me  to  stay  with  him,  instead  of  going  on  with 
my  party,  and  not  reveal  his  real  title  to  any  of  them. 
After  some  hesitation  I  did  stay,  and  was  not  uncomfort- 
able at  first.  But  I  soon  found  that  Sir  Blount  drank 
much  harder  now  than  when  I  had  known  him,  and  that 
he  was  at  times  very  greatly  depressed  in  mind  at  his  po- 
sition. One  morning,  in  the  middle  of  December  last, 
I  heard  a  shot  from  his  dwelling.  His  wife  rushed  franti- 
cally past  me,  as  I  hastened  to  the  spot,  and  when  I  had 
entered  I  found  that  he  had  put  an  end  to  himself  with 
his  revolver.  His  princess  was  broken-hearted  all  that  day. 
When  we  had  burietl  him,  I  tliscovered  in  his  house  a 
little  bo.\  directed  to  his  solicitors  at  Warborne,  in  Eng- 


2  74  TWO    ON"  A    TOWER. 

land,  and  a  note  for  myself,  saying  that  I  had  better  gel 
the  first  chance  of  returning  that  oifered,  and  requesting 
me  to  take  the  box  with  me.  It  is  supposed  to  contain 
papers  and  articles  for  friends  in  England  who  have 
deemed  him  dead  for  some  time.'" 

The  clerk  stopped  his  reading,  and  there  was  a  silence. 
"The  middle  of  last  December,"  she  at  length  said,  in  a 
whisper.      ' '  Has  the  box  arrived  yet } " 

''No'  yet,  my  lady.  We  have  no  further  proof  of  any- 
thing. As  soon  as  the  package  comes  to  hand  you  shall 
know  of  it  immediately." 

Such  was  the  clerk's  mission;  and  leaving  the  paper 
with  her,  he  withdrew.  The  intelligence  amounted  to 
thus  much:  that.  Sir  Blount  having  been  alive  till  at  least 
six  weeks  after  her  marriage  with  Swithin  St.  Cleeve. 
Svvithin  St.  Cleeve  was  not  her  husband  in  the  eye  of  the 
law:  that  she  would  have  to  consider  how  her  marriage 
with  the  latter  might  be  instantly  repeated  to  establish 
herself  legally  as  that  young  man's  wife. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

NEXT  morning,  Viviette  received  a  visit  from  Mr. 
Cecil  himself.  He  informed  her  that  the  box  spo- 
ken of  by  the  servant  had  arrived  quite  unexpectedly,  just 
after  the  departure  of  his  clerk  on  the  previous  evening. 
There  had  not  been  sufficient  time  for  him  thoroughly 
to  examine  it  as  yet,  but  he  had  seen  enough  to  enable 
him  to  state  that  it  contained  letters,  dated  memoranda 
in  Sir  Blount's  handwriting,  notes  referring  to  events 
which  had  happened  later  than  his  supposed  death,  and 
other  irrefragable  proofs  that  the  account  in  the  newspapers 
was  correct  as  to  the  main  fact, — the  comparatively  recent 
date  of  Sir  Blount's  decease. 

She  looked  up,  and  spoke  with  the  irresponsible  help- 
lessness of  a  child.  "On  reviewing  the  circumstances, 
I  cannot  think  how  I  could  have  allowed  myself  to  believe 
the  first  tidings  !  "  she  said. 

"Everybody  else  believed  them,  and  why  should  not 
vou  have  done  so .' "  said  the  lawyer. 

"  How  came  the  will  to  be  permitted  to  be  proved,  as 
there  could,  after  all,  have  been  no  complete  evidence.''" 
she  asked.      "  If  I  had  been  the  executrix,  I  would  not 


276  TIFO    OAT  A     TOWER. 

have  attempted  it.  As  I  was  not,  I  know  very  little  about 
how  the  business  was  pushed  through.  In  a  very  unseemly 
way,  I  think." 

"Well,  no,  "said  Mr.  Cecil,  feeling  himself  called  upon 
to  defend  law  practice  from  such  imputations,  whatever 
might  be  its  defects  in  the  present  instance.  "It  was  done 
in  the  way  customary  in  all  cases  where  the  proof  of  death 
is  only  presumptive.  The  evidence,  such  as  it  was,  was 
laid  before  the  court  by  the  applicants,  your  husband's 
cousins,  and  the  servants  who  had  been  with  him  deposed 
to  his  death  with  a  particularity  that  was  deemed  sufficient. 
Their  error  was,  not  that  somebody  died, — for  somebody 
did  die  at  the  time  affirmed, — but  that  they  mistook  one 
person  for  another;  the  person  who  died  not  being  Sir 
Blount  Constantine.  The  court  was  of  opinion  that  the 
evidence  led  up  to  a  reasonable  inference  that  the  deceased 
was  actually  Sir  Blount,  and  probate  was  granted  on  the 
strength  of  it.  As  there  was  a  doubt  about  the  exact  day 
of  the  month,  the  applicants  were  allowed  to  swear  that 
he  died  on  or  after  the  date  last  given  of  his  existence, — 
which,  in  spite  of  their  error  then,  has  really  come  true 
now,  of  course. " 

"They  little  think  what  they  have  done  to  me  by  being 
so  ready  to  swear ! "  she  murmured. 

Mr.  Cecil,  supposing  her  to  allude  only  to  the  pecuni- 
ary straits  in  which  she  had  been  prematurely  placed  by 
the  will  taking  effect  a  year  before  its  due  time,  said,  "True. 
It  has  been  to  your  ladyship's  loss,  and  to  their  gain. 
But  they  will  make  ample  restitution,  no  doubt;  and  all 
will  be  wound  up  satisfactorily." 

Lady  Constantine  was  far  from  explaining  that  this  was 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  277 

not  her  meaning,  and  after  some  further  consultation  of  a 
purely  technical  nature  .Air.  Cecil  left  her  presence. 

When  she  was  again  unencumbered  with  the  necessity 
of  exhibiting  a  proper  bearing,  the  sense  that  she  had 
gready  suffered  in  pocket  by  the  undue  haste  of  the  exec- 
utors weighed  upon  her  mind  with  a  pressure  quite  inap- 
preciable beside  the  greater  gravity  of  her  personal  posi- 
tion. What  was  her  situation  as  a  legatee  to  her  situadon 
as  a  woman  !  Her  face  crimsoned  with  a  Hush  which  she 
was  almost  ashamed  to  show  to  the  daylight,  as  she  hastily 
penned  the  following  note  to  Swithin  at  Greenwich, — cer- 
tainly one  of  the  most  informal  documents  she  had  ever 
written:  — 

Welland,   Thursday. 

(J  Swiihln,  my  tlear  Swiiliin,  what  1  have  to  tell  you  is  so  sad  and 
su  humiliating  that  1  can  hardly  write  it,  and  yet  I  must!  Though 
we  are  dearer  to  each  other  than  all  the  world  besides,  and  as  firmly 
united  as  il  we  were  one,  I  am  not  legally  your  wife.  Sir  Blount  did 
ni>t  die  till  some  time  after  we  in  England  supposed.  The  service 
must  be  repeated  instantly.  I  have  not  been  able  to  sleep  all  night. 
I  feel  so  wrong  and  unseemly  that  I  can  scarcely  collect  my  thoughts. 
Tiie  newspaper  sent  with  this  will  explain,  if  you  have  not  seen  par- 
ticulars. Do  come  to  me  as  soon  as  you  can,  that  we  may  consult  on 
what  to  do.     Burn  this  at  once.  Your 

ViVIETTE. 

When  the  note  had  been  dispatched,  she  remembered 
that  there  was  another  hardly  less  important  question  to  be 
answered, — the  proposal  of  the  Bishop  for  her  hand.  His 
communication  had  sunk  into  nothingness  beside  the  mo- 
mentous news  that  had  so  greatly  distressed  her. 

The  two  replies  lay  before  her:  the  one  she  had  first 
written,  simply  declining  to  become  Dr.  Helmsdale's  wife, 


278  Tlf^O    ON'  A     TOWER. 

without  giving  reasons;  the  second,  which  she  had  elabo- 
rated with  so  much  care  on  the  previous  day,  relating  in 
confidential  detail  the  history  of  her  love  for  Swithin,  their 
secret  marriage,  and  their  hopes  for  the  future, — asking 
his  advice  on  what  their  procedure  should  be  to  escape 
the  strictures  of  a  censorious  world.  It  was  the  letter  she 
T.zA  barely  finished  writing  when  Mr.  Cecil's  clerk  an- 
nounced news  tantamount  to  a  declaration  that  she  was 
no  wife  at  all.  This  episde  she  now  destroyed,  and  with 
the  less  reluctance  in  knowing  that  Swithin  had  been 
somewhat  averse  to  the  confession  as  soon  as  he  found 
that  Bishop  Helmsdale  was  also  a  victim  to  tender  sentiment 
concerning  her.  The  first,  which  she  had  been  unable 
honestly  to  sign  "Viviette  Constantine,"  and  could  not 
openly  sign  "  Viviette  St.  Cleeve,"  she  sadly  filled  in  with 
the  former  surname,  and  sent  the  missive  on  its  way. 
Strange  it  was  to  her,  and  yet  in  keeping  with  the  tenor 
of  human  affairs,  that  the  difficulty  of  signing  that  letter 
should  have  resolved  itself  by  the  only  means  which  at 
the  time  of  writing  she  would  have  deemed  non-existent. 
There  had  been  a  thousand  reasons  why  she  should  sign 
"Viviette  Constantine,"  even  when  believing  herself  no 
longer  owner  of  that  name;  that  she  should  ultimately 
sign  it  because  it  had  never  ceased  to  be  hers  was  a  result 
that  distanced  all  conjecture. 

The  sense  of  her  undefinable  position  kept  her  without 
much  repose  on  the  second  night  also;  but  the  following 
morning  brought  an  unexpected  letter  from  Swithin,  written 
about  the  same  hour  as  hers  to  him,  and  it  comforted  hei 
much. 

He  had  seen  the  account  in  the  papers  almost  as  soon 


TIVO    OX   A     TOWER.  279 

as  it  had  come  to  her  knowledge,  and  now  sent  th-s  hne 
to  reassure  her,  in  the  perturbation  she  must  naturally 
feel.  She  was  not  to  be  alarmed  at  all.  They  two  were 
husband  and  wife  in  moral  intent  and  antecedent  belief, 
and  the  legal  flaw  which  accident  had  so  curiously  uncov- 
ered could  be  mended  in  half  an  hour.  He  would  return 
on  Saturday  night  at  the  latest;  but  as  the  hour  would  be 
fiir  advanced,  he  would  ask  her  to  meet  him  by  slipping 
out  of  the  house  to  the  tower  any  time  during  service  on 
Sunday  morning,  when  there  would  be  few  persons  about 
likely  to  observe  them.  ]Meanwhile,  he  might  provision- 
ally state  that  their  best  course  in  the  emergency  would 
be,  instead  of  confessing  to  anybody  that  there  had  already 
been  a  solemnization  of  marriage  between  them,  to  arrange 
their  remarriage  in  as  open  a  manner  as  possible,  as  if  it 
were  the  just- reached  climax  of  a  sudden  affection;  pref- 
acing it  by  a  public  announcement  in  the  usual  way. 

This  plan  of  approaching  their  second  union  with  all  the 
show  and  circumstance  of  a  new  thing  recommended  it- 
self to  her  strongly,  but  for  one  objection, — that  by  such 
a  course  the  wedding  could  not,  without  appearing  like 
an  act  of  unseemly  haste,  take  place  so  quickly  as  she  de- 
sired for  her  own  peace  of  mind.  It  might  occur  some- 
what early,  say  in  the  course  of  a  month  or  two,  without 
bringing  down  upon  her  the  charge  of  levity;  for  Sir 
Blount,  a  notoriously  unkind  husband  to  her,  had  been 
out  of  her  sight  four  or  five  years,  and  in  his  grave  nearl_\ 
one.  But  what  she  naturally  desired  was  that  there  should 
be  no  more  delay  than  was  positively  necessary  for  obtain- 
ing a  new  license, — two  or  three  days  at  longest:  and  in 
view  of  this  celerity  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  make  due 


2 So  TIFO    ON  A     TOWER. 

preparation  for  a  wedding  of  ordinary  publicity,  performed 
in  her  own  church,  from  her  own  house,  with  a  feast  and 
amusements  for  the  villagers,  a  tea  for  the  school-children, 
a  bonfire,  and  other  of  those  proclamatory  accessories 
which,  by  meeting  wonder  half-way,  deprives  it  of  much 
of  its  intensity.  It  must  be  admitted,  too,  that  she  even 
now  shrank  from  the  shock  of  surprise  that  would  inevi- 
tably be  caused  by  her  openly  taking  for  her  husband  such 
a  mere  youth  as  Swithin  still  appeared,  notwithstanding 
that  in  years  he  was  by  this  time  within  a  trifle  of  one  and 
twenty. 

The  straightforward  course  had,  nevertheless,  so  much  to 
recommend  it,  and  so  well  avoided  the  disadvantage  of  fu- 
ture revelation  which  a  private  repetition  of  the  ceremony 
would  entail,  that,  assuming  she  could  depend  upon 
Swithin,  as  she  knew  she  could  do,  good  sense  coun- 
seled its  serious  consideration.  She  became  more  com- 
posed at  her  queer  situation:  hour  after  hour  passed,  and 
the  first  spasmodic  impulse  of  womanly  decorum  not  to 
let  the  sun  go  down  upon  her  present  state  was  quite  con- 
trollable. She  could  regard  the  strange  contingency  that 
had  arisen  with  .something  like  philosophy.  The  day 
slipped  by:  she  thought  of  the  awkwardness  of  the  accident 
rather  than  of  its  humiliation;  and,  loving  Swithin  now  in 
a  far  calmer  spirit  than  at  that  past  date,  when  they  had 
for  the  first  time  rushed  into  each  other's  arms  and  vowed 
to  be  one,  she  ever  and  anon  caught  herself  reflecting, 
"Were  it  not  that,  for  my  honor's  sake,  I  must  remarry 
him,  I  should  perhaps  be  a  nobler  woman  in  not  allowing 
him  to  hamj)er  his  bright  future  by  a  union  with  me  at 
all." 


TIP'O    ON  A     TOWER.  281 

This  thought,  at  first  artificially  entertained  as  little  more 
than  a  mental  exercise,  became  by  stages  a  genuine  con- 
viction; and  while  her  heart  enforced,  her  reason  regretted, 
tlie  necessity  of  abstaining  from  self-sacrifice, — the  being 
obliged,  despite  his  curious  escape  from  the  first  attempt, 
to  lime  Swithin's  young  wings  again,  solely  for  her  credit's 
sake. 

However,  the  deed  had  to  be  done:  Swiihin  was  to  be 
made  legally  hers.  Selfishness  in  a  conjecture  of  this  sort 
was  excusable,  and  even  obligatorv.  Taking  brighter 
views,  she  allowed  herself  to  hope  that  upon  the  whole  this 
yoking  of  the  young  fellow  with  her,  a  portionless  woman 
and  his  senior,  would  not  greatly  endanger  his  career.  In 
such  a  mood  night  overtook  her,  and  she  went  to  bed  re- 
flecting that  Swithin  had  by  this  time  arrived  in  the  parish, 
— was  perhaps  even  at  that  moment  passing  homeward 
beneath  her  walls, — and  that  in  less  than  twelve  hours  she 
would  have  met  him,  have  ventilated  the  secret  which  op- 
pressed her,  and  have  satisfactorily  arranged  with  him  the 
details  of  their  reunion. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

O  UN  DAY  morning  came  and  complicated  her  previous 
^-'  emotions  by  bringing  with  it  a  new  and  unexpected 
shock  to  mingle  with  them.  The  postman  had  delivered, 
among  other  things,  an  illustrated  newspaper,  sent  by  a 
hand  which  she  did  not  recognize;  and  on  opening  the 
cover  the  sheet  that  met  her  eyes  filled  her  with  a  horror 
which  she  could  not  express.  The  print  was  one  which 
drew  largeh'  on  its  imagination  for  its  engravings,  and 
it  already  contained  an  illustration  of  the  death  of  Sir  Blount 
Constantine.  In  this  work  of  art  he  was  represented  as 
standing  with  his  pistol  to  his  mouth,  his  brains  being  in 
the  act  of  flying  up  to  the  roof  of  hiS  chamber,  and  his 
native  princess  rushing  terror-stricken  away  to  a  remote 
position  in  the  thicket  of  palms  which  neighbored  the 
dwelling. 

The  crude  realism  of  the  picture,  possibly  harmless 
CTiough  in  its  effect  upon  others,  naturally  overpowered 
and  sickened  her.  By  a  curious  fascination  she  would 
look  at  it  again  and  again,  till  every  line  of  the  engraver's 
performance  seemed  really  a  transcript  from  what  had  hap- 
pened.     For  the  first  time,  on  these  grounds,  she  felt  it  to' 


TfVO    ON  A    TOWER.  283 

be  a  trying  position  that,  with  such  details  so  fresh  in  her 
thoughts,  she  was  obHged  to  go  out  and  make  arrange- 
ments for  confirming,  by  repetition,  her  marriage  with 
another.  No  interval  was  available  for  serious  reflection, 
or  for  allowing  the  softening  effects  of  time  to  operate  in 
her  mind.  It  was  as  though  her  first  husband  had  died 
that  moment,  and  she  were  keeping  an  appointment  with 
another  in  the  presence  of  his  corpse. 

So  revived  was  the  actuality  of  Sir  Blount's  recent  life 
and  death  by  this  incident,  that  the  distress  of  her  per- 
sonal relations  with  Swithin  was  the  single  force  in  the 
world  which  could  have  coerced  her  into  abandoning  to 
him  the  interval  she  would  have  first  set  apart  for  getting 
over  these  new  and  painful  impressions  of  her  former  hus- 
band. Self-pity  for  ill-usage  afforded  her  good  reasons 
for  ceasing  to  love  him,  but  he  was  yet  too  closely  inter- 
twined with  her  past  life  to  be  destructible  on  the  instant 
as  a  memory. 

But  there  was  no  choice  of  occasions  for  her  now,  and 
she  listlessly  waited  for  the  church  bells  to  cease  chiming. 
When  all  was  still,  and  the  surrounding  cottagers  had  gath- 
ered themselves  within  the  walls  of  the  adjacent  building, 
and  Tabitha  Lark's  first  voluntary  had  pealed  from  the 
tower  window,  Lady  Constantine  left  the  garden  in  which 
she  had  been  loitering,  and  went  towards  Rings-Hill 
Speer. 

The  sense  of  her  situation  obscured  the  morning  pros- 
pect. The  country  was  unusually  silent  under  the  inten- 
sifying sun,  the  songless  season  of  birds  having  arrived. 
Choosing  her  path  amid  the  efts  that  were  basking  upon 
the  outer  slopes  of  the  plantation,  she  wound  her  way  up 


284  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

the  tree-shrouded  camp  to  the  wooden  cabin  in  the  cen- 
ter. The  door  was  ajar,  but  on  entering  she  found  the 
place  empty.  The  tower  door  was  also  partly  open,  and, 
listening  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  she  heard  Swithin  above, 
shifting  the  telescope  and  wheeling  round  the  rumbling 
dome,  apparently  in  preparation  for  the  next  nocturnal 
reconnoiter.  There  was  no  doubt  that  he  would  descend 
in  a  minute  or  two  to  look  for  her,  and,  not  wishing  to 
interrupt  him  till  he  was  ready,  she  re-entered  the  cabin, 
and  patiently  seated  herself  among  the  books  and  papers 
that  lay  scattered  about. 

She  did  as  she  had  often  done  before  when  waiting  there 
for  him;  that  is,  she  occupied  herself  in  turning  over  the 
papers,  and  examining  the  progress  of  his  labors.  The 
notes  were  mostly  astronomical,  of  course,  and  she  had 
managed  to  keep,  sufficiently  abreast  of  him  to  catch  the 
meaning  of  a  good  many  of  these.  The  litter  on  the  ta- 
ble, however,  was  somewhat  more  profuse  and  miscellane- 
ous in  character  this  morning,  as  if  the  paper  had  been 
hurriedly  overhauled.  Among  the  rest  of  the  sheets  lay 
an  open  note,  which,  in  the  entire  confidence  that  existed 
between  them,  she  glanced  over  and  read  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

It  was  a  most  business-like  communication,  and  bevond 
the  address  and  date  contained  only  the  following  words: — 

Dear  Sir, — We  beg  leave  t®  draw  your  attention  to  a  letter  we 
addressed  ta  you  on  tke  26th  ult.,  to  which  wa  have  not  yet  been  fa- 
vored with  a  reply.  As  the  time  for  the  payment  of  the  first  moiety 
of  the  four  hundred  pounds  per  annum,  settled  on  you  by  your  late 
uncle,  is  now  at  hand,  we  shoukl  be  obliged  by  your  giving  directions 
as  to  wliere  and  in  what  manner  the  money  is  to  be  handed  over  to 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  285 

you,  and  shall  also  he.  glad  to  receive  any  other  definite  instructions 
from  you  with  regard  to  the  future. 

•  We  are,  dear  sir,  yours  faithfully, 

IIannkr  &  Rawles. 
SwiTHih  i:~.  Cleeve,  Esq. 

An  income  of  four  hundred  a  year  for  Swithin,  whom 
she  had  hitherto  understood  to  be  possessed  of  an  annuity 
of  eighty  pounds  at  the  outside,  with  no  prospect  of  in- 
creasing the  sum  but  by  hard  work.!  What  could  this 
communication  mean  !  He,  whose  custom  and  deHght  it 
was  to  tell  her  all  his  heart,  had  not  breathed  a  syllable  of 
this  matter  to  her,  though  it  met  the  very  difficulty  to- 
wards which  their  discussions  invariably  tended, — how  to 
secure  for  him  a  competency  which  should  enable  him  to 
establish  his  pursuits  on  a  wider  basis,  and  throw  himself 
into  more  direct  communication  with  the  scientific  world. 
Quite  bewildered  by  the  lack  of  any  explanation,  she  rose 
from  her  seat,  and,  with  the  note  in  her  hand,  ascended 
the  winding  tower  steps. 

Reaching  the  upper  aperture,  she  perceived  him  under 
the  dome,  moving  musingly  about,  as  if  he  had  never  been 
absent  an  hour,  his  light  hair  frilling  out  from  under  the 
edge  of  his  velvet  skull-cap  as  it  had  always  been  wont  to 
do.  No  question  either  of  marriage  or  not  marriage  seemed 
to  be  disturbing  the  mind  of  this  juvenile  husband  of  hers. 
The  be-all  and  end-all  of  his  existence  was  apparently  be- 
fore him,  namely,  the  equatorial  telescope,  which  he  was 
carefully  adjusting  by  means  of  screws  and  clamps,  till, 
hearing  her  movements,    he  turned  his  head. 

"Oh,  here  you  are,  my  dear  Viviette  !  I  was  just  be- 
ginning to  expect  you  !  '  he  exclaimed  coming  forward. 


286  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"I  ought  to  have  been  looking  out  for  you;  but  I  have 
found  a  little  defect  here  in  the  instrument,  and  I  wanted 
to  set  it  right  before  evening  came  on.  It  is  not  a  good 
thing  to  tinker  your  glasses,  but  I  have  found  that  the  dif- 
fraction rings  are  not  perfect  circles.  I  have  learnt  at 
Greenwich  how  to  correct  them, — so  kind  they  have  been 
to  me  there  I — and  so  I  have  been  loosening  the  screws  of 
the  cell,  and  gently  shifting  the  glass,  till  I  think  that  I  have 
at  last  made,  the  illumination  equal  all  round.  I  have  so 
much  to  tell  you  about  my  visit.  One  thing  is  that  the 
astronomical  world  is  getting  quite  excited  about  the  com- 
ing transit  of  Venus.  There  is  to  be  a  regular  expedition 
fitted  out.      How  I  should  like  to  join  it !  " 

He  spoke  enthusiastically,  and  his  eyes  sparkled  at  the 
mental  image  of  the  said  expedition.  As  it  was  rather 
dark  in  the  dome,  he  rolled  it  round  on  its  axis  till  the 
shuttered  slit  for  the  telescope  directly  faced  the  morning 
sun,  which  thereupon  flooded  the  concave,  touching  the 
bright  metal  work  of  the  equatorial,  and  lighting  up  Lady 
Constantine's  pale,  troubled  face. 

"But,  Swithin,"  she  faltered,  "my  letter  to  you — our 
marriage. " 

"Oh  yes, — this  marriage  question,"  he  hastily  added, 
"I  had  not  forgotten  it,  or  at  least  only  for  a  few  minutes." 

"Can  you  forget  it,  Swithin,  for  a  moment.?  Oh,  how 
can  you  !  "  she  said  reproachfully.  "It  is  such  a  distress- 
ing thing.     It  drives  away  all  my  rest." 

"Forgotten  is  not  the  word  I  should  have  used,"  he 
apologized.  "Temporarily  dismissed  it  from  my  mind  is 
all  I  meant.  The  simple  fact  is  that  the  vastness  of  the 
field  qS  astronomy  reduces  every  terrestrial  thing  to  atomic 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  287 

dimensions.  Do  not  trouble,  dearest.  The  remedy  is  quite 
easy,  as  I  stated  in  my  letter.  We  can  now  be  married  in 
a  prosy,  public  way.  Yes,  early  or  late,  next  week,  next 
month,  six  months  hence,  just  as  you  choose.  Say  the 
word  when,  and  I  will  obey."  His  face,  with  its  absence 
of  all  anxiety  or  consternation,  contrasted  strangely  with 
hers,  which  at  last  he  saw,  and,  looking  at  the  writing  she 
held,  inquired,  "But what  paper  have  you  in  your  hand.''" 

"A  letter  which  to  me  is  actually  inexplicable,"  said 
she,  her  curiosity  returning  to  the  letter,  and  overriding 
for  the  instant  her  immediate  concern.  "What  does  this 
income  of  four  hundred  a  year  mean  .'  \\^hy  have  you 
never  told  me  about  it,  dear  Swithin  }  Or  does  it  not  re- 
fer to  you }  " 

He  looked  at  the  note,  flushed  slightly,  and  was  abso- 
lutely unable  to  begin  his  reply  at  once.  "  I  did  not  mean 
you  to  see  that,  Viviette,"  he  murmured. 

"Why  not.?" 

"'I  thought  you  had  better  not,  as  it  docs  not  concern 
me  further,  now.  The  solicitors  are  laboring  under  a 
mistake  in  supposing  that  it  does.  I  have  to  write  at 
once  and  inform  them  that  the  annuity  is  not  mine  to 
receive. " 

"What  a  strange  mystery  in  your  life!"  she  said,  for- 
cing a  perplexed  smile.  "Something  to  balance  the  trag- 
edy in  mine.  I  am  absolutely  in  the  dark  as  to  your  past 
history,  it  seems.  And  yet  I  had  thought  you  told  me 
everything. " 

"  I  could  not  tell  you  that,  Viviette,  because  it  would 
have  endangered  our  relations, — though  not  in  the  way 
vou  may  suppose.      You  would  have  reproved  me, — you, 


288  TtVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

who  are  so  generous  and  noble,  would  have  forbidden  me 
to  do  what  I  did;  and  I  was  determined  not  to  be  for- 
bidden." 

"To  do  what !  " 

"  To  marry  you." 

"Why  should  I  have  forbidden  }  " 

"Must  I  tell — what  I  would  not.?"  he  said,  placing 
his  hands  upon  her  shoulders,  and  looking  somewhat 
sadly  at  her.  "Well,  perhaps,  since  it  has  come  to  this, 
you  ought  to  know  all,  since  it  can  make  no  possible  dif- 
ference to  my  intentions  now.  We  are  one  for  e\-er,  legal 
blunders  notwithstanding, — for  happily  they  are  quickly 
reparable; — and  this  question  of  a  devise  from  my  uncle 
Jocelyn  concerned  me  only  when  I  was  a  single  man." 

Thereupon,  with  obviously  no  con.sideration  of  the  pos- 
sibilities that  were  reopened  by  the  nullity  of  their  mar- 
riage contract,  he  related  in  detail,  and  not  without  mis- 
giving  for  havino:  concealed  them  so  long,  the  events  that 
had  occurred  on  the  morning  of  their  wedding  day;  how 
he  had  met  the  postman  on  his  way  to  Warborne,  after 
dressing  in  the  cabin,  and  how  he  had  received  from  him 
the  letter  from  his  dead  uncle  through  his  family  lawyers, 
informing  him  of  the  bequest  and  of  the  important  condi- 
tion attached, — that  he  should  remain  unmarried  until  his 
iive-and-twentieth  )ear;  how,  in  comparison  with  the  pos- 
session of  her  tlcar  self,  he  had  reckoned  the  income  as 
naught,  abandoned  all  idea  of  it  there  and  then,  and  had 
come  on  to  the  wedding  as  if  nothing  had  happened  to 
interrupt  for  a  moment  the  working  out  of  their  plan;  how 
he  had  scarcely  thought  with  any  closeness  of  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case  since,  until  reminded  of  them  by  this 


TPVO    OAT  A    TOURER.  2^9 

note  she  had  seen,  and  a  previous  one  of  the  soit  received 
trom  the  same  sohcitors. 

"Oh,  Swithin,  Swithin  !  "  she  cried,  bursting  into  tears 
as  she  realized  it  all,  and  sinking  on  the  observing-chair 
"I  have  ruined  you, — yes,  1  have  ruined  you  !  " 

The  }oung  man  was  dismayed  by  her  unexpected  grief, 
and  endeavored  to  soothe  her;  but  she  seemed  shaken  by 
a  poignant  remorse,  which  would  not  be  comforted. 

"And  now,"  she  continued,  as  soon  as  she  could  speak, 
"when  you  are  once  more  free,  and  in  a  position — act- 
ually in  a  position  to  claim  the  annuity  that  would  be  the 
making  of  you,  I  am  compelled  to  come  to  you,  and  be- 
seech you  to  undo  yourself  again,  merely  to  save  me  !  " 

"Not  to  save  you,  Viviette,  but  to  bless  me.  Yot 
do  not  ask  me  to  remarry;  it  is  not  a  question  of  alterna- 
tives at  all, — it  is  my  straight  course.  I  do  not  dream  of 
doing  otherwise.  I  should  be  wretched  if  you  thought 
for  one  moment  I  could  entertain  the  idea  of  doing 
otherwise. "' 

But  the  more  he  said,  the  worse  he  made  the  matter. 
It  was  a  state  of  affairs  that  would  not  bear  discussion  at 
all,  and  the  unsophisticated  view  he  took  of  his  course 
seemed  to  increase  her  responsibility. 

".Why  did  your  uncle  attach  such  a  cruel  condition  to 
his  bounty!"  she  cried  bitterly.  "Oh,  he  little  thinks 
how  hard  he  hits  me  from  the  grave, — me,  who  have  never 
done  him  wrong;  and  you  too.  Swithin,  are  you  sure 
that  he  makes  that  condition  indispensable.'*  Perhaps  he 
meant  that  you  should  not  marry  beneath  you;  perhaps 
he  did  not  mean  in  such  a  case  as  your  marrying  (forgive 
me  for  saying  it)  a  little  above  you." 


igo  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

"There  is  no  doubt  that  he  did  not  contemplate  a  case 
which  has  led  to  such  happiness  as  this  has  done,"  the 
youth  murmured  with  hesitation;  for  though  he  scarcely 
remembered  a  word  of  his  uncle's  letter  of  advice,  he  had 
a  dim  apprehension  that  it  was  couched  in  terms  alluding 
specifically  to  Lady  Constantine. 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  cannot  retain  the  money,  and 
be  my  lawful  husband  too?"  she  asked  piteously.  "Oh, 
what  a  wrong  I  am  doing  you  !  I  did  not  dream  that  it 
could  be  as  bad  as  this.  I  knew  I  was  wasting  your  time 
by  letting  you  love  me,  and  hampering  your  projects;  but 
I  thought  there  were  compensating  advantages.  This 
wreck  of  your  future  by  me  I  did  not  contemplate.  You 
are  sure  there  is  no  escape  .-*  Have  you  his  letter  with  the 
conditions,  or  the  will .'  Let  me  see  the  letter  in  which 
he  expresses  his  wishes. " 

"I  assure  you  it  is  all  as  I  say,"  he  pensively  returned. 

"But  how  does  he  put  it.""  How  does  he  justify  him- 
self in  making  such  a  harsh  restriction .?  Do  let  me  see 
the  letter,  Swithin.  I  shall  think  it  a  want  of  confidence 
if  you  do  not.  I  may  discover  some  way  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty, if  you  let  me  look  at  the  papers.  Eccentric  wills 
can  be  evaded  in  all  sorts  of  ways. " 

Still  he  hesitated.  ' "  I  would  rather  you  did  not  see  these 
papers,"  he  said. 

But  she  persisted,  as  only  a  fond  woman  can.  Hei 
knowledge  that  she,  who  as  a  woman  many  years  his  sen- 
ior should  have  shown  her  love  for  him  by  guiding  him 
straight  into  the  paths  he  aimed  at,  had  (though  in  some 
respects  unwittingly)  blocked  his  attempted  career  for  her 
own  li3pi)'.nc.ss,  made  her  more  intent  than  ever  to  find 


TWO    ON  A     TOWER.  2^1 

out  a  device  by  which  she  might  retain  him,  while  he  also 
retained  the  life-interest  under  his  uncle's  will.  Her  en- 
treaties were  at  length  too  potent  for  his  resistance;  and, 
accompanying  her  downstairs  to  the  cabin,  he  opened  the 
desk  from  which  the  other  papers  had  been  taken,  and, 
ugainst  his  belter  judgment,  handed  her  the  ominous  com- 
nuinication  of  Jocelyn  St.  Cleeve,  which  lay  in  the  envel- 
ope just  as  it  had  been  received,  three  quarters  of  a  year 
earlier. 

"  Don't  read  it  now,"  he  said.  "  Don't  spoil  our  meet- 
ing by  entering  into  a  subject  which  is  virtually  past  and 
done  with.  Take  it  with  you,  and  look  it  over  at  your 
leisure, — but  merely  as  an  old  curiosity,  remember,  and 
not  as  a  still  possibly  operative  document.  I  have  almost 
forgotten  what  the  contents  are,  beyond  the  general  ad- 
vice and  stipulation  that  I  was  to  remain  a  bachelor." 

"At  any  rate,"  she  rejoined,  "do  not  reply  to  the  note 
I  have  seen  from  the  solicitors  till  I  have  read  this  also." 

He  promised.  "  But  now  about  our  public  wedding," 
he  said.  "Like  certain  royal  personages,  we  have  had 
the  religious  rite;  and  now  comes  the  civil  contract.  Will 
you  fix  the  day .'  When  is  it  to  be  ^  And  shall  it  take 
place  at  a  registrar's  office,  since  there  is  no  necessity  for 
having  the  .sacred  part  over  again  .'  " 

"Til  think,"  replied  she.      "  I'll  think  it  over." 

"And  let  me  know  as  soon  as  you  can  how  you  decide 
to  proceed." 

"I  will  write  to-morrow,  or  come.  I  do  not  know 
what  to  say  now.  I  cannot  forget  how  I  am  wronging 
you.     This  is  almost  more  than  I  can  bear." 

To  divert  her  mind  he  began  talking  about  Greenwich 


292  ri-VO    ON  A    TOWER. 

Observatoiy,  and  the  great  instruments  therein,  and  how  he 
had  been  received  by  the  astronomers,  and  the  details  of 
the  expedition  to  observe  the  transit  of  Venus,  together 
with  many  other  subjects  of  the  sort,  to  which  she  had 
not  power  to  lend  her  attention. 

"I  mus*.  reach  home  before  the  people  are  out  of  church," 
she  at  length  said  wearily.  "I  wish  nobody  to  know  I 
have  been  out  thib  morning.  '  And  forbidding  Swithin 
to  cross  into  the  open  in  her  company,  she  left  him  on 
the  edge  of  the  isoiatt»i  plantation,  which  had  latterly 
known  her  tread  to  .ve^;. 


L 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

ADY  CONSTANTINE  crossed  the  field  and  the  park 
beyond,  and  found  on  passing  the  church  that  the 
congregation  was  still  within.  There  was  no  hurry  for 
getting  indoors,  the  open  windows  enabling  her  to  hear 
lliat  Mr.  Torkingham  had  only  just  given  out  his  text. 
So  instead  of  entering  the  house,  she  went  through  the 
garden  door  to  the  old  bowling-green,  and  sat  down  in 
the.  arbor  that  Louis  had  occupied  when  he  overheard 
the  interview  between  Swithin  and  the  Bishop.  Not  until 
then  did  she  find  courage  to  draw  out  the  letter  and  papers 
relating  to  the  bequest,  which  Swithin  in  a  critical  mo- 
ment had  handed  to  her. 

Had  he  been  ever  so  little  older  he  would  not  have 
placed  that  unconsidered  confidence  in  her  which  had 
led  him  to  give  w-ay  to  her  curiosity.  But  the  immense 
influence  over  him  which  seven  or  eight  outnumbering 
vears  lent  her  was  again  increased  by  her  wider  experi- 
ences, and  he  had  yielded  the  point,  as  he  yielded  all 
social  points;  while  tne  same  juniority  freed  him  from 
'  much  consciousness  that  it  was  his  duty  to  protect  her 
even  from  herself. 


294  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

The  preamble  of  Dr.  St.  Cleeve's  letter — in  which  he 
referred  to  his  pleasure  at  hearing  of  the  v'oung  man's 
promise  as  an  astronomer — disturbed  her  not  at  all;  in- 
deed, somewhat  prepossessed  her  in  favor  of  the  old  gen- 
tleman who  had  written  it.  The  first  item  of  what  he 
called  "unfavorable  news,"  namely,  the  allusion  to  the 
inadequacy  of  Swithin's  income  to  the  wants  of  a  scientific 
man,  whose  lines  of  work  were  not  calculated  to  produce 
pecuniary  emoluments  for  many  years,  deepened  the  cast 
of  her  face  to  concern.  She  reached  the  second  item 
of  the  so-called  unfavorable  news;  and  her  face  flushed 
as  she  read  how  the  doctor  had  learnt  "that  there  was 
something  in  }-our  path  worse  than  narrow  means,  and 
that  that  something  was  a  woman. " 

"To  save  you,  if  possible,  from  ruin  on  these  heads," 
she  read  on,  "I  take  the  preventive  measures  detailed 
below."  And  then  followed  the  announcement  of  the 
four  hundred  a  year  .settled  on  the  youth  for  life,  on  the 
single  condition  that  he  remained  unmarried  till  the  age 
of  twenty-five,  just  as  Swithin  had  explained  to  her.  She 
next  learnt  that  the  bequest  was  for  a  definite  object-  that 
he  might  have  resources  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  travel 
in  an  inexpensive  way,  and  begin  a  study  of  the  Southern 
constellations,  which,  according  to  the  shrewd  old  man's 
judgment,  were  a  mine  not  so  thoroughly  worked  as  the 
Northern,  and  therefore  to  be  recornmended.  This  was 
followed  by  some  sentences  which  hit  her  in  the  face  like 
a  switch: — 

"The  only  other  preventive  step  in  my  power  is  that  of 
exhortation.  .  .  .  Swithin  St.  Cleeve,  don't  rnake  a  fool 
of  yourself,   as  your  father  did.      If  your  studies  are  tq 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  295 

DC  woiih  anything,  believe  me,  they  must  be  earned  on 
without  the  help  of  a  woman.  Avoid  her,  and  every  one 
of  the  sex,  if  \ou  mean  to  achieve  any  worthy  thing. 
Eschew  all  of  that  sort  for  many  a  year  yet.  Moreover, 
I  say,  the  lady  of  your  accjuaintance  avoid  in  particular. 
....  She  has,  in  addition  to  her  original  disqualifica- 
tion as  a  companion  for  you  (that  is,  that  of  sex),  these 
two  serious  drawbacks;  she  is  much  older  than  yourself — 

Lady  Constantine's  indignant  flush  forsook  her,  and 
pale  despair  succeeded  in  its  ftead.  Alas,  it  was  true: 
handsome  and  in  her  prime  she  might  be,  but  she  was  too 
old  for  Swithin  ! 

" — and  she  is  so  impoverished.  .  .  .  Beyond  this, 
frankly,  I  don't  think  well  of  her.  I  don't  think  well  of 
any  woman  who  doles  upon  a  man  younger  than  herself. 
....  To  care  to  be  the  first  fancy  of  a  young  fellow  like 
}'0u  shows  no  great  common  sense  in  her  If  she  were 
worth  her  salt  she  would  have  too  much  pride  to  be  intimate 
with  a  }outh  in  }-our  unassured  position,  to  say  no  worse. ' 
(Viviette's  face,  by  this  time,  tingled  hot  again.)  "She 
is  old  enough  to  know  that  a  liaison  with  her  ma\',  and 
almost  certainly  would,  be  your  ruin;  and,  on  the  o:her 
hand,  that  a  marriage  would  be  preposterous, — unless  she 
is  a  complete  fool,  and  in  that  case  there  is  even  more  rea- 
son for  avoiding  her  than  if  she  were  in  her  few  senses. 

"A  woman  of  honorable  feeling,  nephew,  would  be 
careful  to  do  nothing  to  hinder  you  in  your  career,  as  this 
putting  of  herself  in  your  way  most  certainly  will.  Vet  I 
hear  that  she  professes  a  great  anxiety  on  this  same  future 
of  yours  as  a  physicist.  The  best  way  in  which  she  can 
show  the  realitv  of  her  anxiety  is  by  leaving  you  to  yourself." 


296  TfVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

Leaving  him  to  himself!  She  paled  again,  as  if  chilled 
by  a  conviction  that  in  this  the  old  man  was  right. 

.  .  .  "  She'll  blab  your  most  secret  plans  and  theories 
to  every  one  of  her  acquaintance,  and  make  them  appear 
ridiculous  by  announcing  them  before  they  are  matured. 
If  you  attempt  to  study  with  a  woman,  you'll  be  ruled  by 
her  to  entertain  fancies  instead  of  theories,  air-castles  in- 
stead of  intentions,  qualms  instead  of  opinions,  sickly  pre- 
possessions instead  of  reasoned  conclusions.    .    .    . 

"A  woman  waking  your  passions  just  at  a  moment  when 
you  are  endeavoring  to  shine  intellectually  is  like  stirring 
up  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  a  clear  brook.'  All  your 
brightness  and  sparkle  are  taken  away;  you  become  mop- 
ing and  thick-headed;  obstructions  that  before  only  brought 
out  your  brilliancies  now  disfigure  your  each  dull  attempt 
to  surmount  them." 

Thus  much  the  letter;  and  it  was  enouirh  for  her,  in- 
deed.  The  flushes  of  indignation  which  had  passed  ovci 
her  from  time  to  time,  as  she  gathered  this  man's  opinion 
(sf  herself,  combined  with  flushes  of  grief  and  shame  when 
she  considered  that  Swithin,  her  dear  Swithin,  was  perfectly 
acquainted  with  this  cynical  view  o\  her  nature;  that,  re- 
ject it  as  he  might,  and  as  he  unquestionably  did,  such 
tioughts  (if  her  had  been  implanted  in  him,  and  lay  in 
liini;  stifled  as  they  were,  tiiey  lay  in  him  like  seeds  too 
deep  for  germination,  which  accident  might  some  day 
hiing  near  the  surface  and  aerate  into  life.  The  humilia- 
tion of  such  a  possibility  was  almost  too  much  to  endure; 
the  mortification — she  had  known  nothing  like  it  till  now. 
But  this  was  not  all.  Those  tingling  emotions  were  suc- 
ceeded by  feelings  in  comparison  with  which  resentment 


TIFO    ON  A    TOWER.  297 

and  mortification  were  happy  moods, — a  miserable  con- 
viction that  this  old  man,  who  spoke  from  the  grave,  was 
not  altogether  wrong  in  his  speaking;  that  he  was  only 
half  wrong;  that  he  was,  perhaps,  virtually  right.  Only 
those  persons  whom  nature  has  unhappily  endowed  with 
that  apprcciativeness  of  others'  positions  v.hicli  empowers 
them  to  observe  themselves  fn^n  the  outside  can  under- 
stand the  smart  of  such  convictions  against  self, — the  wish 
for  annihilation  that  is  engendered  in  the  moment  of  de- 
spair at  feeling  that  at  length  we,  our  own  last  firmest 
friend,  cease  to  belie\e  in  our  own  cause. 

Viviette  could  hear  the  people  coming  out  of  church 
on  the  other  side  of  the  garden  wall;  their  footsteps  and 
their  cheerful  voices  died  away.  The  bell  rang  for  lunch, 
and  she  went  in.  But  her  life  during  that  morning  and 
afternoon  was  wholly  introspective.  Knowing  the  whole 
circumstances  of  his  situation  as  she  knew  them  now, 
as  she  had  never  before  known  them,  ought  she  to  make 
lierself  the  legal  wife  of  Swithin  St.  Cieeve,  and  so  secure 
her  own  honor,  at  any  price  to  liim .?  Such  was  the 
formidable  question  which  Lady  Constantine  propounded 
to  her  startled  understanding.  As  a  subjectively  honest 
woman  alone,  beginning  her  charity  at  home,  there  was 
no  doubt  that  she  ought.  Save  thj-self  was  sound  Old 
Testament  d(jctrine,  and  not  altogeUier  discountenaucid 
in  the  New.  But  was  there  a  line  of  conduct  v>hich 
transcended  mere  self-preservation,  and  would  it  not  be 
an  excellent  thing  to  put  it  in  practice  now.? 

That  she  had  wronged  St.  Cieeve  by  marrying  hhm, 
that  she  would  wrong  him  infinitely  more  by  compleiing 
the    marriage,    there   was — in    her    opinion — no   doubt 


2y8  TIVO    ON   A     TOWER. 

She  in  her  experience  had  sought  out  him  in  his  in 
experience,  and  had  led  him  Hke  a  child.  She  remem- 
bered, as  if  it  had  been  her  fault,  though  it  was  in  facl 
only  her  misfortune,  that  she  had  been  the  one  to  go 
for  the  Hcense,  and  take  up  residence  in  the  parish  in 
which  they  were  wedded.  He  was  now  just  one  and 
twenty.  Without  her,  he  had  all  the  world  before  him, 
four  hundred  a  year,  and  leave  to  cut  as  straight  a  road 
to  fame  as  he  should  choose.  With  her,  this  story  was 
negatived.  Beyond  leading  him  to  waste  the  active 
spring-time  of  his  life  in  idle  adoration  of  her  as  his 
sweetheart,  and  depriving  him  of  his  inestimable  inde- 
pendency by  allowing  him  to  make  her  his  wife,  she  had 
indirectly  been  the  means  of  ruining  him  in  the  good 
opinion  of  Bishop  Helmsdale, — a  man  who  was  once  his 
father's  acquaintance,  and  who  had  been  strongly  disposed 
to  become  the  younger  n^  iVs  friend.  Encouragement 
and  aid  from  the  Bisho;  'add  have  been  of  no  mean 
value  to  a  vouth  without  backers  of  any  kind. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  had  he  gained  by  his  alliance 
with  hcr.^  Well,  an  equatorial  telescope, — that  was  about 
all;  while  to  set  against  this  there  was  the  disinclination 
to  adventure  further  which  her  constant  presence  had 
imparted;  the  yoke  with  a  woman  whose  disparity  of  years, 
uiough  immaterial  just  now,  would  operate  in  the  future 
as  a  wet  blanket  upon  his  social  ambitions;  that  content 
with  life  a.-,  it  was  which  she  hatl  noticed  more  than  once 
in  him  latterly,  and  which  was  imperiling  his  scientific 
spirit  by  abstracting  his  zest  for  progress. 

It  was  impossible,  in  short,  to  blind  herself  to  the 
inference  that  marriage  with  her  had  not  benefit  d.  i  i.uj., 


Tiro    OM  A    TOWER.  299 

as  a  man  who — in  her  fond  belief— had  a  great  work  to 
do,  to  the  extent  they  both  had  expected.  Matters  might 
improve  in  the  future;  but  to  take  upon  herself  the  whole 
liability  of  Swithin"s  life,  as  she  would  do  by  causing  him 
to  sacrifice  the  help  his  uncle  had  offered,  was  a  fearful 
responsibility.  How  could  she,  an  unendowed  woman, 
replace  such  assistance .'  His  recent  visit  to  Greenwich, 
which  had  momentarily  revived  that  zest  for  his  pursuits 
that  was  now  less  constant  than  heretofore,  should  by  rights 
be  supplemented  by  other  such  expeditions.  It  would 
be  true  benevolence  not  to  deprive  him  of  means  to  con- 
tinue them,  and  so  to  keep  his  ardor  alive,  regardless  of 
the  cost  to  herself 

It  could  be  done.  By  the  extraordinary  favor  of  a  unique 
accident,  she  had  now  an  opportunity  of  redeeming  Swith- 
in's  seriously  compromised  future,  and  restoring  him  to 
a  state  no  worse  than  his  first.  His  annuity  could  be 
enjoyed  by  him,  his  travels  undertaken,  his  studies  pur- 
sued, his  high  vocation  initiated,  by  one  little  sacrifice, 
— that  of  herself  She  only  had  to  refuse  to  legalize  their 
marriage  by  repeating  it,  to  part  from  him  forever,  and 
■all  would  be  well  with  him  thenceforward.  The  pain  to 
him  would  after  all  be  but  slight,  whatever  it  might  be 
to  his  wretched  Viviette. 

Such  passion  as  he  had  shown  for  her,  boyish  and  never, 
(leihaps,  ver\-  strong,  had,  in  the  inevitable  course  of 
marriage  on  such  terms,  been  softened  down  to  mild 
affection.  She  had  seen  only  too  clearly  this  morning 
that,  owing  to  his  Greenwich  visit,  she  had  again  sunk 
to  a  second  place  in  his  heart,  if  she  had  ever  occupied 
a  higher;  his  darling  science  reasserting  its  right  to   the 


jOO  TPi^O    OAT  A    TOWEk. 

first.  It  was  the  ordinary  fate  of  scientific  men's  wives- 
she  should  have  thought  of  it  before.  Was  there  not, 
then,  something  reactionary  and  selfish  in  her  persisting 
to  chnch  a  union  for  the  assurance  of  her  individual 
composure,  now  that  her  conception  of  that  course  as 
an  advantage  to  him  had  been  proved  wildly  erroneous } 

The  horror  of  retaining  him  at  her  side  lay  not  only  in 
the  fact  itself  of  injury  to  him,  but  in  the  likelihood  of  his 
living  to  see  it  as  such,  and  reproaching  her  for  selfishness 
in  not  letting  him  go,  in  this  unprecedented  opportunity 
for  correcting  a  move  proved  to  be  false.  He  wished  to 
examine  the  Southern  heavens, — perhaps  his  uncle's  letter 
was  the  father  of  the  wish, — and  there  was  no  telling  what 
good  might  not  result  to  mankind  at  large  from  his  exploits 
there.  Why  should  she,  to  save  her  narrow  honor,  waste 
the  wide  promise  of  his  ability  1  True,  an  objector  might 
have  urged,  on  her  side,  that  her  dear  Swithin's  wondrous 
works  among  the  children  of  men  existed  as  yet  only  in 
her  imagination,  while  the  present  quandary  was  an  un- 
questionable fact.  But  Lady  Constantine  would  have  been 
the  first  to  deprecate  the  ungenerousness  of  such  a  skepti- 
cal reason  er. 

That  in  immolating  herself  by  refusing  him,  and  leaving 
him  free  to  work  wonders  for  the  good  of  his  fellow-crea- 
tures, she  would  in  all  probability  add  to  the  sum  of 
human  felicity  consoled  her  by  its  breadth  as  an  idea,  even 
while  it  tortured  her  by  making  herself  the  .scape-goat  or 
single  unit  on  which  the  evil  would  fall.  Ought  a  possibly 
large  number,  Swithin  included,  to  remain  unbenefited 
because  the  one  individual  to  whom  his  release  would  be 
an  injury  chanced  to  be  herself.'     Love  between  man  and 


TlVO    OAT  A    TOWEK.  %o\ 

woman,  whicli  in  Ilumer,  Moses,  aiul  oilier  early  exhibi- 
tors of  life  is  mere  desire,  liad  for  centuries  past  so  fir 
broadened  as  to  include  sympathy  and  friendship;  surely, 
it  should,  in  this  advanced  stage  of  the  world,  include 
benevolence  also.  If  so,  it  was  her  duty  to  set  her  young 
man  free. 

Thus  she  labored,  with  a  generositv  more  worthv  even 
than  its  object,  to  sink  her  love  for  her  own  decorum  in 
devotion  tt)  the  world  in  general  and  Swithin  in  particu- 
lar. To  counsel  her  activities  by  her  understanding,  rather 
than  by  her  emotions,  as  usual,  was  hard  work  for  a  ten- 
der woman;  but  she  strove  hard,  and  made  advance.  The 
self-centered  attitude  natural  to  one  in  her  situation  was 
becoming  displaced  by  the  sympathetic  attitude,  which, 
though  it  had  to  be  artificially  fostered  at  first,  gave  her, 
by  degrees,  a  certain  sweet  sense  that  she  was  rising  above 
self-love.  That  maternal  element  which  had  from  time 
to  time  evinced  itself  in  her  affection  for  the  youth,  and 
was  imparted  by  her  superior  ripeness  in  experience  and 
}ears,  appeared  now  again  as  she  drew  nearer  the  resolve 
not  to  secure  propriety  in  her  own  social  condition  at  the 
expense  of  this  youth's  earthly  utility. 

Unexpectedly  grant!  fruits  are  sometimes  borne  of  mean 
roots.  The  illiberal  letter  of  Swithin's  uncle  was  sua:- 
gesting  to  Lady  Constantine  a  more  comprehensive  mor- 
ality than  the  highest  efforts  of  direct  instructors  had  ever 
been  able  to  instill.  To  love  him  so  far  better  than  her- 
self as  this  was  to  surpass  the  love  of  woman  as  convention- 
ally understood,  and  as  mostly  existing. 

Before,  however,  clinching  her  decision  by  any  definite 
step,  she  worried  her  little  brain  by  devising  every  kind 


302  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

of  ingen.'ous  scheme,  in  the  hope  of  lighting  on  one  that 
might  show  her  how  that  decision  could  be  avjided,  with 
the  same  good  result.  But  to  secure  for  him  the  advan- 
tages offered,  and  to  retain  him  likewise, — reflection  only 
showed  it  to  be  impossible  !  Yet  to  let  him  go  forever 
was  more  than  she  could  endure,  and  at  length  she  jumped 
at  an  idea  which  promised  some  sort  of  improvement  on 
that  design.  She  would  propose  that  reunion  should  not 
be  entirely  abandoned,  but  simply  postponed, — namely, 
till  after  his  twenty-fifth  birthday,  when  he  might  be  hei 
husband  without,  at  any  rate,  the  loss  to  him  of  the  income. 
By  this  time  he  would  approximate  to  a  man's  full  judg- 
ment, and  that  painful  aspect  of  her  as  one  who  deluded 
his  raw  immaturity  would  have  passed  forever. 

The  plan  somewhat  appeased  her  disquieted  honor.  To 
let  a  marriage  sink  into  abeyance  for  four  or  five  years  was 
not  to  nullify  it;  and  though  she  would  leave  it  to  him  to 
move  its  substantiation  at  the  end  of  that  time,  without 
present  stipulations,  she  had  not  much  doubt  upon  the 
issue. 

The  clock  struck  five.  This  silent  mental  debate  had 
occupied  her  whole  afternoon.  Perhaps  it  would  not 
have  ended  now,  but  for  an  unexpected  incident, — the 
entry  of  her  brother  Louis.  He  came  into  the  room  where 
she  was  sitting,  or  rather  writhing;  and  after  a  few  words 
to  explain  how  he  had  got  there,  and  about  the  mistake 
in  the  date  of  Sir  Blount's  death,  he  walked  up  close  to 
her.  His  next  remarks  were  apologetic  in  form,  but  in 
essence  the)'  were  bitterness  itself 

"Viviette,"  he  said,  "I  am  sorry  for  my  hasty  words 
to  you  when  I  last  left  this  house.      I  readily  withdraw 


Tft^O    OAT  A    TOWER.  303 

them.  My  suspicions  took  a  wrong  direction.  I  think 
now  tliat  I  know  the  truth  !  You  have  been  even  mad- 
der than  I  supposed  !  " 

"In  what  way }  "  she  asked  distantly. 

"I  had  lately  thought  that  unhappy  young  man  was 
only  your  too-favored  lover." 

"You  thought  wrong:  he  is  not." 

"He  is  not, — I  believe  you, — for  he  is  more.  I  now 
am  persuaded  that  he  is  your  lawful  husband.  Can  you 
deny  it  'i " 

"I  can." 

"On  your  sacred  word  !  " 

"On  my  sacred  word,  he  is  not  that,  either." 

"Thank  Heaven  for  that  assurance!"  said  Louis,  ex- 
haling a  breath  of  relief  "I  was  not  so  positive  as  I 
pretended  to  be,  but  I  wanted  to  know  the  truth  of  this 
m}-stery.  Since  you  are  not  fettered  to  him  in  that  way, 
I  care  nothing. " 

Louis  turned  away,  and  that  afforded  her  an  opportu- 
nity for  leaving  the  room.  Those  few  words  were  the  last 
grains  that  had  turned  the  balance,  and  settled  her  doom. 
She  would  let  Swithin  go.  All  the  voices  in  her  world 
had  seemed  to  clamor  for  that  consummation.  The 
morning's  mortification,  the  afternoon's  benevolence,  and 
the  evening's  instincts  of  evasion  had  combined  to  carry 
the  point. 

Accordingly,  she  sat  down  and  wrote  to  Swithin  a  sum- 
mary of  the  thoughts  above  detailed.  "We  shall  separ- 
ate," she  concluded:  "you  to  obey  your  uncle's  orders 
and  explore  the  Southern  skies;  I  to  wait  as  one  who  can 
implicitly  trust  you.      Do  not  see  me  again  till  the  years 


304  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

have  expired.  You  will  find  me  still  the  same.  I  am 
your  wife  through  all  time.  The  letter  of  the  law  is  not 
needed  to  reassert  it  at  present;  while  the  absence  of  the 
letter  secures  your  fortune." 

Nothing  can  express  what  it  cost  Lady  Constantine  to 
marshal  her  arguments;  tut  she  did  it,  and  vanquished 
self-comfort  by  a  sense  of  the  general  expediency.  It  may 
unhesitatingly  be  affirmed  that  the  only  ignoble  reason 
which  might  have  dictated  such  a  step  was  non-existent; 
that  is  to  say,  a  serious  decline  in  her  affection.  Tenderly 
she  had  loved  the  youth  at  first,  and  tenderly  she  loved 
him  now,  as  time  and  her  conduct  after  proved. 

Women  the  most  delicate  get  used  to  strange  moral  sit- 
uations. Eve  probably  regained  her  normal  sweet  com- 
posure about  a  week  after  the  Fall.  On  first  learning  of 
lier  anomalous  position  Lady  Constantine's  cheek  had 
blushed  hot,  and  her  instincts  prompted  her  to  legalize 
her  marriage  without  a  moment's  delav.  Heaven  and 
earth  were  to  be  moved  at  once  to  effect  it.  Day  after  day 
had  passed;  her  union  had  remained  unsecured,  and  the 
idea  of  its  nullity  had  gradually  ceased  to  be  strange  to 
her,  till  it  became  of  little  account  beside  her  generous  re- 
solve for  the  young  man's  sake. 


CHAPTER    XXXVl. 

'T'^HE  immediate  effect  upon  St.  Cleeve  of  the  receipt  of 
her  well-reasoned  argument  for  retrocession  was,  nat- 
urally, a  bitter  attack  upon  himself  for  having  been  guilty 
of  such  cruel  carelessness  as  to  leave  in  her  way  the  law- 
yer's letter  that  had  first  made  her  aware  of  his  uncle's  pro- 
vision for  him.  Immature  as  he  was,  he  could  realize 
Viviette's  position  sufficiently  well  to  perceive  w'hat  the  poor 
lady  must  suffer  at  having  suddenly  thrust  upon  her  the 
responsibility  of  repairing  her  own  situation  as  a  wife  by 
ruining  his  as  a  legatee.  True,  it  was  by  the  purest  inad- 
vertence that  his  pending  sacrifice  of  means  had  been  dis- 
covered; but  he  should  have  taken  special  pains  to  render 
such  a  contretemps  impossible.  If,  on  the  first  occasion 
when  a  revelation  might  have  been  made  with  impunity, 
he  would  not  put  it  in  the  power  of  her  good  nature  to 
relieve  his  position  by  refusing  him,  he  should  have  shown 
double  care  not  to  do  so  now,  when  she  could  not  exer- 
^cise  that  benevolence  without  the  loss  of  honor.  With  a 
young  man's  inattention  to  issues,  he  had  not  considered 
how  sharp  her  feelings  as  a  woman  must  be  in  this  con- 
tingency.     It  had  seemed  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to 


3o6  TIVO    ON"  A    TOWER. 

remedy  the  defect  in  their  marriage,  and  that  therefore 
there  was  nothing  to  be  anxious  about.  And  in  his  inno- 
cence ol  any  thought  of  securing  the  bequest,  by  talcing 
advantage  of  the  loop-hole  in  his  matrimonial  bond,  he 
undervalued  the  importance  of  concealing  the  existence  of 
that  bequest. 

The  looming  fear  of  unhappiness  between  them  revived 
in  Swithin  the  warmest  emotions  of  their  earlier  acquaint- 
ance. Almost  before  the  sun  had  set  he  hastened  to  Wel- 
land  House  in  search  of  her.  The  air  was  disturbed  by  a 
slifT  summer  wind,  productive  of  windfalls  and  premature 
descents  of  leafage.  It  was  an  hour  when  unripe  apples 
.shower  down  in  orchards,  and  unbrowned  chestnuts  de- 
.scend  in  their  husks  upon  the  park  jlades.  There  was 
no  help  for  it  this  afternoon  but  to  call  upon  her  in  a  di- 
rect manner,  regardless  of  suspn  ions.  He  was  thunder- 
struck when,  while  waiting  in  the  full  expectation  of  be- 
ing admitted  to  her  presence,  the  answer  brought  back  to 
him  was  that  she  was  engaged. 

This  had  never  happened  before  in  the  whole  course  of 
their  acquaintance.  But  he  knew  what  it  meant,  and 
turned  away  with  a  vague  disquietude.  He  did  not  know 
that  Lady  Constantine  was  just  above  his  head,  listening  to 
his  movements  with  the  liveliest  emotions,  and,  while 
praying  for  him  to  go,  longing  for  him  to  insist  on  &cc.\ni^ 
her  and  spoil  all.  But  the  faintest  symptom  being  always 
sufficient  to  convince  him  of  having  blundered,  he  unwit- 
tingly took  her  at  her  word,  and  went  rapidly  away  • 

However,  he  called  again  the  next  day;  and  she,  hav- 
ing gained  strenjfth  by  one  victory  over  herself,  was  ena- 
bled  to  repeat  her  refusal  with  greater  ease.     Knowing 


TJVO    ON  A    TOWER.  .  307 

this;  to  be  the  only  course  by  which  her  point  could  be 
maintained,  she  clung  to  it  with  strenuous  and  religious 
pertinacity. 

Thus  immured  and  self-controlling  she  passed  a  week. 
Her  brother,  though  he  did  not  live  in  the  house  (prefer- 
ring the  nearest  watering-place  at  this  time  of  the  year), 
was  continually  coming  there;  and  one  day  he  happened 
to  be  present  when  slie  refused  Swithin  for  the  third  time. 
Louis,  who  did  not  observe  the  tears  in  her  eyes,  was 
astonished  and  delighted:  she  was  coming  to  her  senses 
at  last.  Believing  now  that  there  had  been  nothing  more 
between  dicm  than  a  too  plainly  shown  partiality  on  her 
part,  he  expressed  his  commendation  of  her  conduct  to 
her  face.  At  this,  instead  of  owning  to  its  advantage  also, 
her  teari  burst  forth  outright. 

Not  knowing  what  to  make  of  this,  Louis  said,  "Well, 
I  am  simply  upholding  you  in  your  course." 

"Yes — yes — I  know  it!"  she  cried.  "And  it  is  my 
deliberately  chosen  course.  I  wish  he — Swithin  St.  Cleeve 
— would  go  on  his  travels --at  once,  and  leave  the  place. 
Four  hundred  a  year  has  been  left  him  for  travel  and 
studv  of  the  Southern  constellations;  and  I  wish  he  would 
use  it.  You  might  represent  the  advantage  to  him  of  the 
course,  if  you  cared  to. " 

Louis  thought  he  could  do  no  better  than  let  Swithin 
know  this  as  soon  as  possible.  Accordingly,  when  St. 
Qleeve  was  writing  in  the  hut,  the  next  day,  he  heard  the 
crackle  of  footsteps  over  the  fir  spikelets  outside,  and 
jumped  up,  supposing  them  to  be  hers;  but  to  his  disap- 
pointment it  was  her  brother  who  appeared  at  the  door. 

"Excuse  my  invading  the  hermitage,   St.   Cleeve,"  he 


3o8  TWO    ON   A     TOWER. 

said  in  his  careless  way.  "  But  I  have  heard  from  my  sis- 
ter of  your  good  fortune. " 

"  My  good  fortune  .'  " 

"  Yes,  in  having  an  opportunity  for  roving:  and  with  a 
traveler's  conceit  I  couldn't  help  coming  to  give  you  the 
benefit  of  my  experience.     When  do  you  start .'  " 

"I  have  not — formed  any  plan  as  yet.  Indeed,  I  had 
not  quite  been  thinking  of  going" — 

Louis  stared.  ' '  Not  going .?  Then  I  may  have  been 
misinformed.  What  I  have  heard  is  that  a  good  uncle  has 
kindly  bequeathed  you  a  sufficient  income  to  make  a  sec- 
ond Isaac  Newton  of  you,  if  you  only  use  it  as  he  directs." 

Swithin  breathed  quickly,  but  said  nothing. 

"If  you  have  not  decided  so  to  make  use  of  it,  let  me 
implore  you,  as  your  friend,  and  one  nearly  old  enough 
to  be  your  father,  to  decide  at  once.  Such  a  chance  does 
not  happen  to  a  scientific  youth  once  in  a  century.'' 

"Thank  you  for  your  good  advice, — for  it  is  good  in 
itself,  I  know,"  .'aid  Swithin,  in  a  low  voice.  "But — has 
Lady  Constantire  spoken  of  it  at  all .'  " 

"  She  thinks  is  I  do." 

"She  has  spoken  to  you  on  the  subject !  " 

"Certainly.  More  than  that,  it  is  at  her  request — 
though  I  did  not  intend  to  say  so — that  I  come  to  speak 
to  vou  about  it  now." 

"Frankly  and  plainly,"  said  Swithin,  his  voice  trem- 
bling with  a  compound  of  scientific  and  amatory  emotion 
that  defies  definition,  "does  she  say  seriously  that  she 
wishes  me  to  go  .'  " 

"She  does." 

"Then  go  I  will,"  replied   Swithin  firmly.       'I  have 


TfVO    ON  A     TOWER.  309 

been  fortunate  enough  to  interest  some  leading  astrono- 
mers, including  the  Astronomer-Royal;  and  in  a  \etter  re- 
ceived this  morning  I  learn  that  the  use  of  the  Cape  ob- 
servatory has  been  offered  me  for  any  Southern  observations 
I  may  wish  to  make.  This  offer  I  will  accept.  Will  you 
kindly  let  Lady  Constantine  know  this,  since  she  is  inter- 
ested in  my  welfare  .'  " 

Louis  promised,  and  when  he  was  gone  Swithin  looked 
blankly  at  his  own  situation,  as  if  he  could  scarcely  believe 
in  its  reality.  Her  letter  to  him,  then,  had  been  deliber- 
ately written,  she  meant  him  to  go.  But  he  was  deter- 
mined that  none  of  those  misunderstandings  which  ruin 
the  happiness  of  lovers  should  be  allowed  to  creep  in  in 
the  present  case.  He  would  see  her,  if  he  slept  under 
her  walls  all  night  to  do  it,  and  would  hear  the  order 
to  depart  from  her  own  lips.  This  unexpected  stand  she 
was  making  for  his  interests  was  winning  his  admiration 
to  such  a  degree  as  to  be  in  danger  of  defeating  the  very 
cause  it  was  meant  to  subsei-ve.  A  woman  like  this  was 
not  to  be  forsaken  in  a  hurry.  He  wrote  two  lines,  and 
left  the  note  at  the  house  with  his  own  hand: — 


The   Cabin,   Rings-Hill. 

I)e.\REST  VivietTE,  —  II  you  insist,  I  will  go.  But  letter-writini^ 
will  not  do.  I  must  have  the  command  from  your  own  two  lips; 
otherwise  I  shall  not  stir.     I  am  here  every  evening  at  seven.     Can 


This  note,  as  fate  would  have  it,  reached  her  hands  in 
the  single  hour  of  that  week  when  she  was  in  a  mood  to 
comply  with   his   request, — whilst   moved   by  the  reflex 


3IO  TIVO    0/V  A     TOWER. 

emotion  that  had  followed  Louis's  praise  of  her  for  dis- 
missing Swithin.  She  went  upstairs  to  the  window  that 
had  so  long  sen'ed  purposes  of  this  kind,  and  signaled 
"ves." 

St.  Cleeve  soon  saw  the  answer  she  had  given,  and 
watched  her  approach  from  the  tower  as  the  sunset  drew 
cu.  The  vivid  circumstances  of  his  life  at  this  date  led 
lii;n  ever  to  remember  the  external  scenes  in  which  they 
were  set.  It  was  now  early  autumn, — the  time  of  phe- 
nomenal irradiations.  To-night  the  west  heaven  gleamed 
like  a  foundry  of  all  metals,  common  and  rare;  the  clouds 
were  broken  into  a  thousand  fragments,  and  the  margin 
of  every  fragment  shone.  Foreseeing  the  disadvantage  and 
pain  to  her  of  maintaining  a  resolve  under  the  pressure 
of  a  meeting,  he  vowed  not  to  urge  her  by  word  or  sign; 
to  put  the  question  plainly  and  calmly,  and  to  discuss  it 
with  her  on  a  reasonable  basis  only,  like  the  philosophers 
they  assumed  themselves  to  be. 

But  this  intention  was  scarcely  adhered  to  in  all  its  in- 
tegrity. She  duly  appeared  on  the  margin  of  the  field, 
flooded  with  the  metallic  radiance  that  marked  the  close 
of  this  day;  whereupon  he  quickly  descended  the  steps, 
and  met  her  at  the  cabin  door.  As  the  evening  grew 
darker  and  darker,  he  listened  to  her  reasoning,  which 
was  precisely  a  repetition  of  that  already  sent  him  by 
letter,  and  by  degrees  accepted  her  decision,  since  she 
v/ould  not  revoke  it.  Time  came  ior  them  to  say  good- 
bye, and  then 

"  He  turned,  and  saw  the  terror  in  her  eyes. 
That  yearned  upon  him,  shining  in  such  wise 
As  a  star  midway  in  the  midnight  fixed," 


TIVO    O.V  A    TOWER.  31 1 

It  was  the  misery  of  her  own  condition  that  showed  forth, 
hitherto  obscured  by  her  ardor  for  ameHorating  his.  They 
closed  together  and  kissed  each  other,  as  though  the  emo- 
tion of  their  whole  year  and  a  half's  acquaintance  had  set- 
tled down  upon  that  moment. 

"  1  won't  go  away  from  you,"  said  Swithin,  huskily. 
"  Why  did  you  propose  it  for  an  instant  ? '' 

Thus  the  nearly  ended  interview  was  again  prolonged. 
Time,  however,  was  merciless,  and  the  hour  came  when 
she  was  compelled  to  depart.  Swithin  walked  with  her 
towards  the  house,  as  he  had  walked  many  times  before, 
believing  that  all  was  now  smooth  again  between  them, 
and  caring,  it  must  be  owned,  very  little  for  his  fame  as 
an  expositor  of  the  Southern  constellations  just  then. 

When  they  reached  the  silent  house  he  said  what  he  had 
not  ventured  to  say  before:  "  Fix  the  day.  You  have  de- 
cided that  it  is  to  be  soon,  and  diat  I  am  not  to  go .' " 

But  youthful  Swithin  was  far,  very  far,  from  being  up 
to  the  fond  subdety  of  Viviette  this  evening.  "  I  cannot 
— decide  here,"  she  said  gently,  releasing  herself  from  his 
arms.  "I  will  speak  to  you  from  the  window.  Wait  for 
me." 

She  vanished;  and  he  waited.  It  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore the  window  opened,  and  he  was  not  aware  that,  with 
her  customary  complication  of  feeling,  she  had  knelt  for 
s^jme  time  inside  the  room  before  looking  out 

"  Well .'"  said  he. 

"It  cannot  be,"  she  answered  "I  cannot  ruin  you. 
But  the  day  after  you  are  five  and  twenty  our  marriage 
shall  be  confirmed,  if  you  choose." 

"Oh,  my  Viviette,  how  is  this.''  "  he  cried. 


312  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

"Swithin,  I  have  not  altered.  But  I  feared  for  my 
powers,  and  could  not  tell  you  whilst  I  stood  by  your 
side.  Take  the  bequest,  and  go.  You  are  too  young 
— to  be  fettered.  I  should  have  thought  of  it !  Do  not 
communicate  with  me  for  at  least  a  year;  it  is  imperative. 
.  .  .  Do  not  tell  me  your  plans.  If  we  part,  we  do  part. 
I  have  vowed  a  vow  not  to  further  obstruct  the  course  you 
had  decided  on  before  you  knew  me  and  my  puling  ways; 
and  by  Heaven's  help  I'll  keep  that  vow.  .  .  .  Now  go. 
These  are  the  parting  words  of  your  own  Viviette  !  " 

Swithin,  who  was  stable  as  a  giant  in  all  that  appertained 
to  nature  and  life  outside  humanity,  was  childishly  flexible 
in  social  matters.  He  was  quite  awed  by  her  firmness, 
and  looked  vacantly  at  her  for  a  time,  till  she  closed  the 
window.  Then  he  mechanically  turned,  and  went  as  she 
had  commanded. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

A  WEEK  had   passed  away.      It  had   been  a  time  of 
cloutiv  mental  weather  to  Swithin  and  Viviette,  but 
the  onh-  noteworthy  fact  about  it  was  that  what  had  been 
planned  to  happen  therein  had  actually  taken  place.     Swith- 
in had  gone  from  Welland,   and  would  shordy  go  from 
England.     Lady  Constantine  became  aware  of  it  by  a  note 
which   he  posted  to  her  on  his  way  through  Warborne. 
There  was  much  evidence  of  haste  in  the  note,  and  some- 
thing of  reserve.     The  latter  she  could  not  understand, 
but  it  might  have  been  obvious  enough  if  she  had  considered. 
On  the  morning  of  his  departure  he  had  sat  on  the  edge 
of  his  bed:  the  sunlight  streaming  through  the  early  mist; 
the  house-martins  scratching  the  back  of  the  ceiling  over 
his  head,   as  they  scrambled  out  from  the  roof  for  their 
day's  gnat-hunting;   the  thrushes  cracking  snails  on  the 
garden  stones  outside  with  the  noisiness  of  little  smiths  at 
work  on  little  anvils.      The  sun  in  sending  its  rods  of  yel- 
low fire  into  his  room  sent,  as  he  suddenly  thought,  men- 
tal illumination  with  it.      For  the  first  time,  as  he  sat  there, 
it  had  crossed  his  mind  that  Viviette  might  have  reasons 
for  this  separation  which  he  knew  not  of     There  might  be 


314  T^VO    ON  A     TOWER. 

lamily  reasons, — mysterious  blood  necessities,  which  aie 
sa:d  to  rule  members  of  old  musty-mansioned  families, 
and  are  unknown  to  other  classes  of  society;  and  they  mav 
have  been  just  now  brought  before  her  by  her  brother  Lou- 
is, on  the  condition  that  they  were  religiously  concealed. 

The  idea  of  some  family  skeleton,  like  those  he  had  read 
of  in  memoirs,  having  been  unearthed  by  Louis,  and  held 
before  her  terrified  understanding  as  a  matter  which  ren- 
dered Swithin's  departure  and  the  neutralization  of  the 
marriage  no  less  indispensable  to  them  than  it  was  an  ad- 
vantage to  himself,  seemed  a  very  plausible  one  to  Swithin 
just  now.  Viviette  might  naturally  have  taken  Louis  into 
her  confidence  at  last,  for  the  sake  of  his  brotherly  advice. 
Swithin  knew  that  of  her  own  heart  she  would  never  wish  to 
get  rid  of  him;  but  coerced  by  Louis,  might  she  not  have 
grown  to  entertain  views  of  its  expediency.-'  Events  made 
such  a  supposition  on  St.  Cleeve's  part  as  natural  as  it  was 
inaccurate,  and,  conjoined  with  his  own  excitement  at  the 
thought  of  seeing  a  new  heaven  overhead,  influenced  him 
to  write  but  the  briefest  and  most  hurried  final  note  to  her^^ 
in  which  he  fully  obeyed  her  sensitive  request  that  he 
would  omit  all  reference  to  his  plans.  These,  at  the  last 
moment,  had  been  modified  to  fall  in  with  the  winter  ex- 
pedition formerly  mentioned,  to  observe  the  transit  of  Ve- 
nus at  a  remote  southern  station. 

The  business  being  done,  and  himself  plunged  into 
the  preliminaries  of  an  important  scientific  pilgrimage, 
Swithin  acquired  that  lightness  of  heart  which  most  men 
feel  in  forsaking  old  love  for  new  adventure,  no  matter 
how  charming  may  be  the  girl  they  leave  behind  them. 
Moreover,  in  the  present  case,  the  man  was  endowed  with 


TH'O    ON  A    TOWER.  3I5 

that  school-boy  temperament  which  does  not  see,  or  at 
least  consider  with  much  curiosity,  the  effect  of  a  given 
scheme  upon  others  than  himself.  The  bearing  upon 
Lady  Constantine  of  what  was  an  undoubted  predicament 
for  any  woman  was  forgotten  in  his  feeling  that  she  had 
done  a  very  handsome  and  noble  thing  for  him,  and  that 
he  was  therefore  bound  in  honor  to  make  the  most  of  it. 

His  going  had  resulted  in  anything  but  lightness  of 
heart  for  her.  Her  sad  fancy  could,  indeed,  indulge  in 
dreams  of  her  yellow-haired  laddie  without  that  formerly 
besetting  fear  that  those  dreams  would  prompt  her  to 
actions  likely  to  distract  and  hinder  him.  She  was 
wretched  on  her  own  account,  relieved  on  his.  She  no 
longer  stood  in  the  way  of  his  advancement,  and  that 
was  enough.  For  herself,  she  could  live  in  retirement; 
visit  the  wood,  the  old  camp,  and  the  column,  and,  like 
CEnone,  think  of  the  life  they  had  led  there, — 

"  Mournful  Qinone,  wandering  forlorn 
Of  Paris,  once  her  playmate  on  the  hills;  " 

leaving  it  entirely  to  his  goodness  whether  he  would  come 
and  claim  her  in  the  future,  or  desert  her  forever. 

She  was  diverted  for  a  time  from  these  sad  performances 
by  a  letter  which  reached  her  from  Bishop  Helmsdale. 
To  see  his  handwriting  again  on  an  envelope,  after  think- 
ing so  anxiously  of  making  a  father  confessor  of  him, 
startled  her  out  of  her  equanimity.  She  speedily  regainevl 
it,  however,  when  she  read  his  note. 

Thf  Palace,  Melchester,  | 
Au^usi  15,  18 — .  f 

My  dear  Lady  Constantine, — 1  am  shocked  and  grieved  that, 
in  the  strange  dispensation  of  thmgs  here  below,  my  offer  of  marriage 


3l6  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

should  have  reached  you  ahnost  simultaneously  with  the  intelligence 
that  your  widowhood  had  been  of  several  months'  less  duration  than 
you  and  I  and  the  world  had  supposed.  I  can  quite  understand  that, 
viewed  from  any  side,  the  news  must  have  shaken  and  disturbed  you; 
and  your  unequivocal  refusal  to  entertain  any  idea  of  a  new  alliance 
at  such  a  moment  was,  of  course,  intelligible,  natural,  and  praise- 
worthy. At  present  I  will  say  no  more  beyond  expressing  a  hope 
that  you  will  accept  my  assurances  that  I  was  quite  ignorant  of  'he 
news  at  the  time  of  writing,  and  a  sincere  desire  that,  in  due  time, 
and  as  soon  as  you  have  recovered  your  equanimity,  I  may  be  al- 
lowed to  renew  my  proposal. 

I  am,  my  dear  Lady  Constantine, 

Yours  ever  sincerely; 

C.  Melchester. 


She  laid  the  letter  aside,  and  thought  no  more  about 
it,  beyond  a  momentary  meditation  on  the  errors  into 
which  people  fall  in  reasoning  from  actions  to  motives. 
Louis,  who  was  now  again  with  her,  became,  in  due 
course,  acquainted  with  the  contents  of  the  letter,  and 
was  satisfied  with  the  promising  position  in  which  matters 
stood  all  round. 

Lady  Constantine  went  her  mournful  ways  as  she  had 
planned  to  do,  her  chief  resort  being  the  familiar  column, 
where  she  experienced  the  unutterable  melancholy  of  see- 
ing two  carpenters  dismantle  the  dome  of  its  felt  covering, 
detach  its  ribs,  and  clear  away  the  inclosure  at  the  top, 
till  everything  stood  as  it  had  before  Swithin  had  bet-r 
known  to  the  place.  The  equatorial  had  already  been 
packed  in  a  box,  to  be  in  readiness  if  he  should  send  for 
it  from  abroad.  The  cabin,  too,  was  in  course  of  demo- 
lition, such  having  been  his  directions,  acquiesced  in  by 
her.  before  he  started      Yet  she  could  not  bear  the  idja 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  317 

that  these  structures,  so  germane  to  the  events  of  their 
romance,  should  be  removed  as  if  removed  forever.  Going 
to  the  men,  she  bade  them  store  up  the  materials  intact, 
that  they  might  be  re-erected  if  desired.  She  had  the 
junctions  of  the  timbers  marked  with  figures,  the  boards 
numbered,  and  the  different  sets  of  screws  tied  up  in  in- 
dependent papers  for  identification.  She  did  not  hear  the 
remarks  of  the  workmen  when  she  had  gone,  to  the  effect 
that  the  young  man  would  as  soon  think  of  buying  a  hal- 
ter for  himself  as  come  back  and  spy  at  the  moon  from 
Rings-Hill  Speer,  after  seeing  the  glories  of  other  nations, 
and  the  gold  and  jewels  tliat  were  found  there,  or  she 
might  have  been  more  unhappy  than  she  was. 

On  returning  from  one  of  these  w-alks  to  the  column,  a 
curious  circumstance  occurred.  It  was  evening,  and  she 
was  coming  as  usual  down  through  the  sighing  plantation, 
wending  her  way  between  the  ramparts  of  the  camp  to- 
wards the  outlet  giving  upon  the  field,  when  suddenly,  in 
a  dusky  vista  among  the  trunks,  she  saw,  or  thought  she 
saw,  a  golden-haired  toddling  child. 

The  child  moved  a  step  or  two,  and  vanished  behind  a 
tree.  Lady  Constantine,  fearing  it  had  lost  its  way,  went 
quickly  to  the  spot,  searched,  and  called  aloud.  But  no 
child  could  she  perceive  or  hear  anywhere  around.  She 
returned  to  where  she  had  stood  when  first  beholding  it, 
and  looked  in  the  same  direction;  but  nothing  reappeared. 
The  only  object  at  all  resembling  a  little  boy  or  girl  was 
the  upper  tuft  of  a  bunch  of  fern,  which  had  prematurely 
yellowed  to  about  the  color  of  a  fair  child's  hair,  and 
waved  occasionally  in  the  breeze.  This,  however,  did  not 
surficiently  explain  the  phenomenon,  and  she  returned  to 


3lS  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

inquire  of  the  man  whom  she  had  left  at  work  removing 
the  last  traces  of  Swithin's  cabin.  Bat  he  had  left  with  her 
departure  and  the  approach  of  night.  Feeling  an  inde- 
scribable dread,  she  retraced  her  steps  and  hastened  home, 
doubting  if  she  had  been  mistaken,  yet  half  believing 
that  her  imagination  must  have  played  her  some  trick 
that  day. 

The  tranquil  mournfulness  of  these  few  days  of  solitude 
was  terminated  in  a  most  unexpected  manner.  The  morn- 
ing after  the  above-mentioned  incident,  Lady  Constantine, 
after  meditating  a  while,  arose  with  a  conviction.  She  re- 
alized a  condition  of  things  that  she  had  never  anticipated, 
and  for  a  moment  the  discovery  so  overwhelmed  her  that 
she  thought  she  must  die  outright.  In  her  terror  she  said 
she  had  sown  the  wind  to  reap  the  whirlwind.  Then  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation  flamed  up  in  her  like  a  fire.  Her 
altruism  in  subjecting  her  self-love  to  benevolence,  and  let- 
ting Swithin  go  away  from  her,  was  demolished  by  the  new 
necessity,  as  if  it  had  been  a  gossamer  web. 

There  was  no  resisting  or  evading  the  spontaneous  plan 
of  action  which  matured  itself  in  her  mind  in  five  minutes. 
Where  was  Swithin  .'  How  could  he  be  got  at  instantly  .' 
That  was  her  single  thought.  She  searched  about  the  room 
for  his  last  short  note,  hoping,  yet  doubting,  that  its  con- 
tents were  more  explicit  on  his  intended  movements  than 
the  few  meager  syllables  which  alone  she  could  call  to  mind. 
She  could  not  find  the  letter  in  her  room,  and  came  down- 
stairs to  Louis  as  pale  as  a  ghost. 

He  looked  up  at  her,  and  with  some  concern  said, 
"What's  the  matter.?" 

"I  am  searching  everywhere  for  a  letter, — a  note  from 


TIVO    ON  A     TOIVF.R.  319 

I^lr.  St.  Cleeve;  just  a  few  words,  telling  me  vvhen  the  Oc- 
cidental sails,  that  he  goes  in  !  " 

"Why  do  you  want  that  unimportant  document?  " 

"It  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that  I  should  know 
whether  he  has  sailed  or  not ! ''  said  the  poor  lady,  in  ag- 
onized tones.      "  Where  can  that  letter  be  !  " 

Louis  knew  where  that  letter  was,  for,  having  seen  it  on 
her  desk,  he  had,  without  reading  it,  torn  it  up  and  thrown 
it  into  the  waste-paper  basket;  thinking  that  the  less  that 
remained  to  remind  her  of  that  voung  philosopher  the  bet- 
ter.     "I  destroyed  it/"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  Louis,  why  did  you  }  "  she  cried  in  despair.  "  I 
am  going  to  follow  him,— I  think  it  best  to  do  so, — and  I 
want  to  know  if  he  is  gone,  and  now  the  date  is  lost  I  " 

"  Going  to  run  after  St.  Cleeve  I '' 

"  Yes,  I  am  !  "  she  said,  with  vehemence.  "I  must  see 
him.      I  want  to  speak  to  him  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Good  God,  Viviette,  are  you  mad  ? '' 

"Oh,  what  was  the  date  of  that  ship.'  But  it  cannot 
be  helped.  I  start  at  once  for  Southampton.  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  to  do  it.  He  was  going  to  his  uncle's 
solicitors  in  the  north  first;  then  he  was  coming  back  to 
Southampton.      He  cannot  have  sailed  yet." 

"I  believe  he  has  sailed,"  muttered  Louis,  sullenly. 

She  did  not  wait  to  argue  with  him,  but  returned  up- 
stairs, where  she  rang  to  teh  Green  to  be  ready  with  the 
pony  tc  drive  her  to  Warborne  station  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

VIVIETTE'S  determination  to  hamper  Swithin  no 
lono-er  had  led  her,  as  has  been  shown,  to  thwar! 
anv  weak  impulse  of  hers  to  write  and  entreat  his  return, 
by  forbidding  hirn  to  furnish  her  with  his  foreign  address. 
His  obedient  disposition,  his  fear  that  there  might  be 
other  reasons  behind,  made  him  obcv  her  command  only 
too  literally.  Thus,  to  her  terror  and  dismay,  she  had 
placed  a  gratuitous  difficulty  in  the  way  of  her  present 
endeavor. 

She  was  ready  before  Green,  and  urged  on  that  factotum 
so  wildly  as  to  leave  him  no  time  to  change  the  corduroys 
and  skitty-boots  in  which  he  had  been  gardening.  He 
therefore  turned  himself  into  a  coachman  as  far  down  as 
his  wa-st  merely,  putting  on  his  proper  coat,  hat,  and 
waistcoat,  and  wrapping  a  rug  over  his  horticultural  half 
below.  In  this  compromise  he  appeared  at  the  door, 
mounted,  and  reins  in  hand. 

Seeing  how  sad  and  determined  Viviette  was,  Louis  pitied 
her  so  far  as  to  put  nothing  in  the  way  of  her  starting,  though 
he  forbore  to  help  her.  He  thought  her  conduct  sentimen- 
tal foolery,  the  outcome  of  mistaken  pity,  and  ' '  such  a 
kind  of  gain-giving  as  would  trouble  a  woman;  "  and  he 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  32 1 

decided   that  it  would  be  better  to  let   this  mood   burn 
itself  out  than  to  keep  it  smouldering  by  obstruction. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  date  of  his  sailing?  "  she  said 
finally,  as  the  pony  carriage  turned  to  drive  off. 

"  He  sails  on  the  25th;  that  is,  to-day.  But  it  may 
not  be  till  late  in  the  evening." 

With  this  she  started,  and  reached  Warborne  in  time 
for  the  up-train.  How  much  longer  than  it  really  is  a 
long  journey  can  seem  to  be  was  fully  learnt  by  the  un- 
happy Viviette  that  day.  d'he  changeful  procession  of 
country-seats  past  which  she  was  dragged,  the  names  and 
memories  of  their  owners,  had  no  points  of  interest  for  her 
now.  She  reached  Southampton  about  midday,  and  drove 
straight  to  the  docks. 

On  approaching  the  gates,  she  was  met  by  a  crowd  of 
people  and  vehicles  coming  out, — men,  women,  children, 
porters,  police,  cabs,  and  carts.  The  Occidental  had  just 
sailed. 

The  adverse  intelligence  came  upon  her  with  such  odds, 
after  her  mornings  tension,  that  she  could  scarcely  crawl 
back  to  the  cab  which  had  brought  her.  *But  this  was 
not  a  time  to  succumb.  As  she  had  no  luggage  she  di.s- 
missed  the  man,  and,  without  any  real  consciousness  of 
what  she  was  doing,  strolled  awa}',  and  sat  down  on  a 
pile  of  merchandise. 

After  long  thinking  her  case  assumed  a  more  hopeful 
complexion.  Much  might  probably  be  done  towards  com- 
municatinir  with  him  in  the  time  at  her  command.  The 
obvious  step  to  this  end,  which  she  should  have  thought 
of  sooner,  wduld  be  to  go  to  his  grandmother,  in  Welland 
Bottom,  and  ilrjre  obtain  his  il!nerar\-  in  detail, — no  doubt 


322  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

well  known  to  Mrs.  Martin.  There  was  no  leisure  fof 
her  to  consider  longer,  if  she  would  be  home  again  thai 
night;  and,  returning  to  the  railway,  she  waited  on  a  seat, 
without  eating  or  drinking,  till  a  train  was  ready  to  take 
her  back. 

By  the  time  she  again  stood  in  Warborne  the  sun  rested 
his  chin  upon  the  meadows,  and  enveloped  the  distant 
outline  of  the  Rings-Hill  column  in  his  humid  rays. 

Hiring  an  empty  fly  that  chanced  to  be  at  the  station, 
she  was  driven  through  the  little  town  onward  to  Welland, 
which  she  approached  about  eight  o'clock.  At  her  re- 
quest, the  man  set  her  down  at  the  entrance  to  the  park; 
and  when  he  was  out  of  sight,  instead  of  pursuing  her 
way  to  the  house,  she  went  along  the  highroad  in  the 
direction  of  IMrs.  Martin's. 

Dusk  was  drawing  on,  and  the  bats  were  wheeling  over 
the  green  basin  called  Welland  Bottom,  by  the  time  she 
arrived;  and  had  any  other  errand  instigated  her  call  she 
would  have  postponed  it  till  the  morrow.  Nobody  re- 
sponded to  her  knock,  but  she  could  hear  footsteps  going 
hither  and  thither  up-stairs,  and  dull  noises  as  of  articles 
moved  from  their  places.  She  knocked  again  and  again, 
and  ultimately  the  door  was  opened  by  Hannah,  as  usual. 

"I  could  make  nobody  hear,"  said  Lady  Constantine, 
who  was  su  weary  she  could  scarcely  stand. 

"I  am  very,  very  sorry,  my  lady,"  said  Hannah,  slightly 
awed  on  beholding  her  visitor.  "But  we  was  a-putting 
poor  Mr.  Swithin's  rooms  to  rights,  now  that  he  is,  as  a 
woman  may  say,  dead  and  buried  to  us;  so  we  didn't  hear 
your  ladyship.  Til  call  Mrs.  Martin  at  once.  She  is  up 
in  the  room  that  used  to  be  his  work-room." 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  323 

Here  Hannah's  voice  implied  moist  eyes,  and  Lady 
Constantine's  instantly  overflowed. 

"No;  I'll  go  up  to  her, "  .said  Vivit.-lte;  and  almost  in 
advance  of  Hannah  she  passed  up  the  shrunken  ash  stains. 

The  ebbing  light  was  not  enough  to  reveal  to  Mrs. 
Martin's  aged  gaze  the  person.ilily  of  her  visitor  till  Han- 
nah explained.      "  I'll  get  a  light,  my  lady,"  said  she. 

'  No,  I  would  rather  not.  What  are  you  doing,  Mrs. 
Martin  V 

"  Well,  the  poor  misguided  boy  is  gone,  and  he's  gone 
for  good  to  me.  I  am  a  woman  of  over  fourscore  }cars, 
my  Lady  Constantine;  my  junketing  days  are  over,  and 
whether  'tis  feasting  or  whether  'tis  sorrowing  in  the  land 
will  soon  be  nothing  to  me.  But  his  life  mav  be  lono 
and  active,  and  for  the  sake  of  him  I  care  for  what  I  shall 
never  see.  and  wish  to  make  pleasant  what  I  shall  never 
enjoy.  I  am  setting  his  room  in  order,  as  the  place  will 
be  his  own  freehold  when  I  am  gone;  so  that  when  he  comes 
back  he  may  find  all  his  poor  jim-cracks  and  tranglej's  as 
he  left  'em,  and  not  feel  that  I  have  betrayed  his  trust. " 

Old  Mrs.  Martin's  voice  revealed  that  she  had  burst 
into  such  few  tears  as  were  left  her,  and  then  Hannah 
began  crying,  likewise;  whereupon  Lady  Constantine, 
whose  heart  had  been  bursting  all  day  (and  who,  indeed, 
considering  her  looming  trouble,  had  reason  enough  for 
tears),  broke  into  bitterer  sobs  than  either, — sobs  of  abso- 
lute pain  that  could  no  longer  be  concealed. 

Hannah  was  the  first  to  discover  that  Lady  Constantine 
was  weeping  with  them,  and  her  feelings  being  probably 
the  least  intense  among  the  three,  she  instantly  controlled 
herself 


324  TPVO    ON   A    TOWER. 

"Refrain  3'ourself,  my  dear  woman,"  she  said  haslilj 
to  Mrs.  Martin.  "Don't  ye  see  how  it  disturbs  my  lady  .'  " 
And  turning  to  Viviette  she  whispered,  "  Her  years  be  so 
great,  your  ladyship,  that  perhaps  ye'll  excuse  her  for 
[)ursting  out  afore  ye  .^  We  know  when  the  rriind  is  dim, 
my  lady,  there's  not  the  manners  there  should  be;  but 
decayed  people  can't  help  it,  poor  old  soul  !  " 

"Hannah,  that  will  do  now.  Perhaps  Lady  Constan- 
tine  would  like  to  speak  to  me  alone,"  said  Mrs.  Martin. 
And  when  Hannah  had  retreated  Mrs.  Martin  continued, 
"Such  a  charge  as  she  is,  my  lady,  on  account  of  her  great 
age  !  You'll  pardon  her  biding  here  as  if  she  were  one  of 
the  flimily.  I  put  up  with  such  things  because  of  her 
iong  service,  and  we  know  that  years  lead  to  childishness." 

"What  are  you  doing.'     Can  I  help  you;"     Viviette 
asked,  as  Mrs.  Martin,  after  speaking,  turned  to  lift  some  ' 
large  article. 

"Oh,  'tis  only  die  rames  of  a  telescope  that's  got  no 
works  in  his  inside,"  said  Swithin's  grandmother,  seizing 
the  huge  pasteboard  tube  that  Swithin  had  maile  and 
abandoned,  because  he  could  get  no  lenses  to  suit  it. 
"I  am  going  to  hang  it  up  to  these  hooks,  and. there  it 
will  bide  till  he  comes  again." 

Lady  Constantine  took  one  end,  and  the  tube  was  hung 
up  against  the  whitewashed  wall  by  strings  that  the  old 
women  had  tied  round  it.  "Here's  all  his  equinoctial 
line.s,  and  his  topics  of  Capricorn,  and  I  don't  know  what  be- 
sides,"  Mrs.  Martin  continued,  pointing  to  some  charcoal 
scratches  upon  the  wall.  "I  shall  never  rub  'em  out;  no, 
though  'tis  such  untidiness  as  I  was  never  brought  up  to, 
I  shall  never  rub  'em  out." 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  325 

"Where  lias  Swilhin  gune  to  first?"  asked  Viviette 
anxiously.  ' '  Where  does  he  say  you  are  to  write  to 
him  ? " 

"  Nowhere  yet,  iny  lady.  He's  going  traipsing  all  over 
Europe  and  America,  and  then  to  the  South  Pacific  Ocean 
about  this  Transit  of  Venus  that's  going  to  be  done  there. 
He  is  to  write  to  us  first, — God  knows  when  ! — for  he  said 
that  if  we  didn't  hear  from  him  for  six  months  we  were 
not  to  be  gallied  at  all." 

At  this  intelligence,  so  much  worse  than  she  had  ex- 
pected. Lady  Constantine  stood  mute,  sank  down,  and 
would  have  fallen  to  the  floor  if  there  had  not  been  a  chair 
behind  her.  Controlling  herself  by  a  strenuous  effort,  she 
disguised  her  despair,  and  asked  vacantly,  "From  Amer- 
ica to  the  South  Pacific — transit  of  Venus.''"  (Swithin's 
arrangement  to  accompany  the  expedition  had  been  made 
at  the  last  moment,  and  therefore  she  had  not  as  yet  been 
informed. ) 

"Yes, — to  a  lone  island,  I  believe." 

"Yes, — a  lone  islant,  my  lady,"  echoed  Hannah,  who 
had  crept  in  and  made  herself  one  of  the  family  again,  in 
spite  of  Mrs.  Martin. 

"He  is  going  to  meet  the  English  and  American  as- 
tronomers there  at  the  end  of  the  year.  After  that  he  will 
most  likely  go  on  to  the  Cape." 

"  But  before  the  end  of  the  year,  what  places  did  he  tell 
you  of  visiting  }  " 

"Let  me  collect  myself  He  is  going  to  the  observa- 
tory of  Cambridge,  United  States,  to  meet  some  gentlemen 
there,  and  spy  through  the  great  refractor.  Then  there's 
the  observator}'  of  Chicago,  and  I  think  he  has  a  letter  to 


326  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

make  him  beknown  to  a  gentleman  in  the  observatory  al 
Marseilles;  and  he  wants  to  go  to  Vienna;  and  Poulkowa, 
too.  he  means  to  take  in  his  way, — there  being  learned  in- 
struments and  a  staff  of  astronomers  at  each  place." 

"Does  he  take  Europe  or  America  first.?"  she  asked 
faintly,  for  the  account  seemed  hopeless. 

Mrs.  Martin  could  not  tell  till  she  had  heard  from 
Swithin.  It  depended  upon  what  he  had  been  advised 
to  do  by  his  great-uncle's  solicitor. 

Lady  Constantine  bade  the  old  people  good-bye,  and 
dragged  her  weary  limbs  homeward.  The  fatuousness  of 
forethought  had  seldom  been  evinced  more  ironically. 
Had  she  done  nothing  to  hinder  him,  he  would  have  kept 
up  an  unreserved  communication  with  her,  and  all  might 
have  been  well. 

For  that  night  she  could  undertake  nothing  further,  and 
she  waited  for  the  next  day.  Then  at  once  she  wrote  two 
letters  to  .Swithin,  directing  one  to  the  jNIarseilles  observa- 
tory, one  to  the  observatory  of  Cambridge,  Massachusetts, 
as  being  the  only  two  spots  on  the  face  of  the  globe  at 
which  they  were  likely  to  intercept  him.  Each  letter  stated 
to  him  the  urgent  reasons  which  existed  for  his  return,  and 
contained  a  passionately  regretful  intimation  that  the  an- 
nuity, on  which  his  hopes  depended,  must  of  necessity  be 
sacrificed  by  the  completion  of  their  original  contract, 
without  delay. 

But  letter  conveyance  was  too  slow  a  process  to  satisfy 
her.  To  send  an  epitome  of  her. epistles  by  telegraph 
was,  after  all,  indispensable.  Such  an  imploring  sentence, 
as  she  desired  to  address  to  him  it  would  be  hazardous  to 
dispatch,  from  XVarborne;  and  she  took  a  dreary  journey  to. 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  327 

Southampton,   on  purpose  to  send   it  from   an  office  at 
which  she  was  unknown. 

Here  she  handed  in  her  messages  in  dupHcate,  address- 
ing th_in  as  slie  had  addressed  the  letters,  and  again  re- 
turncil  home. 

With  regard  to  Marseilles,  she  assumed  that  an  answer 
might  be  e.\{)ected  in  a  day,  if  he  had  gone  there.  She 
waited  two  days,  three  days;  and  there  being  no  return 
telegram  from  Marseilles,  the  inference  was  that  he  had 
gone  to  America.  For  an  answer  to  her  American  tele- 
gram she  ought  to  wait  a  week  or  ten  da)s  longer,  to  al- 
low him  time  to  get  to  Cambridge  and  receive  it. 

Then  she  considered  the  weakness,  the  stultifying  nature, 
of  her  attempt  at  recall. 

Events  mocked  her  on  all  sides.  By  the  flivor  of  an 
accident,  and  by  her  own  immense  exertions  against  her 
instincts,  Swithin  had  been  restored  to  the  rightful  heri- 
tage that  he  had  nearly  forfeited  on  her  account.  He  had 
just  started  off  to  utilize  it;  when  she,  without  a  moment's 
warning,  was  asking  him  again  to  cast  it  away.  She  had 
set  a  certain  machinery  in  motion,  to  stop  it  before  it  had 
revolved  once. 

A  horrid  apprehension  possessed  her.  It  had  been 
easy  for  Swithin  to  give  up  what  he  had  never  known  the 
advantages  of  keeping;  but  having  once  begun  to  enjoy 
his  possession,  would  he  give  it  up  now }  Could  he  be 
depended  on  for  such  self-sacrifice.'  Suppose  there  ar- 
rived no  reply  from  him  for  the  next  three  months, 
and  that,  w^hen  his  answer  came,  he  were  to  inform  her 
that,  having  now  fully  acquiesced  in  her  original  decision, 
•  he  found  the  life  he  was  leading  so  profitable,  as  to  be  un-. 


328  TWO    ox  A     TOWER. 

able  to  abandon  it,  even  to  please  her;  that  he  was  viry 
sorry,  but  having  embarked  on  this  course  by  her  advice, 
he  meant  to  adhere  to  it  by  his  own. 

There  was,  indeed,  every  probability  that,  moving  abaut 
as  he  was  doing,  and  cautioned  as  he  had  been  by  her 
veiy  self  against  listening  to  her  too  readily,  she  would  re- 
ceive no  reply  of  any  sort  from  him  for  three,  or  perhaps 
four,  months.  This  would  be  on  the  eve  of  the  transit, 
and  what  likelihood  was  there  that  a  young  man,  full  of 
ardor  for  that  spectacle,  would  forego  it  at  the  last  mo- 
ment to  return  to  a  humdrum  domesticity  with  a  woman 
eight  years  his  senior  .-' 

If  she  could  only  leave  him  to  his  career,  and  save  her 
own  situation  also  !  But  at  that  moment  the  proposition 
seemed  as  impossible  as  to  construct  a  triangle  of  two 
straight  lines. 

In  her  walk  home,  pervaded  by  these  hopeless  views, 
she  passed  near  the  dark  and  deserted  tower.  Night  in 
that  solitary  place,  which  would  have  caused  her  some 
uneasiness  in  her  years  of  blitheness,  had  no  terrors  for 
her  now.  She  went  up  the  wintiing  path,  and,  the  door 
being  unlocked,  felt  her  way  to  the  top.  The  open  sky 
greeted  her  as  in  times  previous  to  the  dome  and  equato- 
r'.d  period;  but  there  was  not  a  star  to  suggest  to  her  in 
which  direction  Swithin  had  gone.  The  absence  of  the 
dome  suggested  a  way  out  of  her  difficulties.  A  leap  in 
the  dark,  and  all  would  be  over.  But  she  had  not  reached 
that  stage  of  action  as  yet,  and  the  thought  was  dismissed 
as  quickly  as  it  had  come. 

The  new  consideration  which  at  present  occupied  hei 
mind  was  whether  she  could  have  the  courage  to  leave 


TJVO    ON  A    TOWER.  329 

Svvithin  to  himself,  as  in  tlie  original  plan,  ar»d  singly 
meet  her  impending  trial,  despising  the  shame,  till  he 
should  return,  at  fiveand-twenty,  and  claim  her.  \'et 
was  this  assumption  of  his  return  so  very  safe?  How- 
Altered  things  would  be  at  that  time  !  At  twenty-five  he 
would  still  be  young  and  handsome;  she  would  be  three- 
■iiul  thirty,  faded,  middle-aged,  and  homely.  A  fear  sharp 
as  a  frost  settled  downi  upon  her  that  in  any  such  scheme 
as  this  she  would  be  building  u[)on  the  sand. 

She  hardly  knew  how  she  reached  home  that  night. 
Entering  by  the  lawn  door,  she  saw  a  red  coal  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  arbor.  Louis  was  smoking  there,  and  he 
came  forward. 

He  had  not  seen  her  since  the  morning,  and  was  natu- 
rally anxious  about  her.  She  blessed  the  chance  which 
enveloped  her  in  night,  and  lessened  the  weight  of  the 
encounter  one  half  by  depriving  him  of  vision. 

"  Did  you  accomplish  your  object.'  "  he  asked. 

' '  No, "  said  she. 

"  How  was  that.?  " 

"  He  has  sailed." 

"A  very  good  thing  for  both,  I  say.  I  believe  you 
would  have  married  him,  if  you  could  have  overtaken 
him." 

"  That  would  I  ! ''  she  said  fervently. 

"  Good  God  !  What!  Would  you  marry  anybody  or 
anything.'"  asked  Louis,  aghast. 

"I  would  marry  a  tinker,  for  that  matter,"  she  .said 
recklessly.      "Only  I  should  prefer  to  drow-n  myseli 

Louis  held  his  breath,  and  stood  rigid,  such  McLs  the 
force  of  the  meaning  her  words  conveyed. 


330  TIVO    ON  A     TO  WEE. 

"  But  Louis,  you  don't  know  all  I  "  cried  poor  Viviette 
"I  am  not  so  bad  as  you  think!  Mine  has  been  folly, 
not  vice.  I  thought  I  had  married  him — and  then  I 
found  I  had  not — the  marriage  was  invalid — Sir  Blount 
was  alive.  And  now  Swithin  has  gone  away,  and  will 
not  come  back  for  my  calling.  How  can  he .''  His  for- 
tune is  left  him  on  condition  that  he  forms  no  legal  tie. 
Oh,  will  he,  will  he  come  again  !  " 

"Never,  if  that's  the  position  of  affairs,"  said  Louis 
firmly,  after  a  pause. 

"  What  then  shall  I  do }  "  said  Viviette. 

Louis  escaped  the  formidable  difficulty  of  replying  by 
pretending  to  continue  his  Havana;  and  she,  bowed  down 
to  dust  by  what  she  had  revealed,  crept  from  him  into  the 
house.  Louis's  cigar  went  out  in  his  hand,  as  he  stood 
looking  intenUy  at  the  ground. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

LOUIS  got  up  the  next  morning  with  an  idea  in  his 
head.  He  had  dressed  for  a  journey,  and  break- 
fasted hastily. 

Before  he  had  started  Viviette  came  down-stairs.  Louis, 
who  was  now  greatly  disturbed  about  her,  went  up  to  his 
sister  and  took  her  hand. 

"  Aux  grands  7natix  les  grands  remeJes,"  he  said  grave- 
ly.     ' '  I  have  a  plan. " 

"  I  have  a  dozen,"  said  she. 

"You  have.?" 

"Yes.  But  what  are  they  worth.?  And  yet  there 
must,  there  must  be  a  way  !  " 

"Viviette,"  said  Louis,  "promise  that  you  will  wail 
till  I  come  home  to-night,  before  you  do  anything." 

Her  distracted  eyes  showed  but  slight  comprehension 
of  his  request,  as  she  said,   "  Yes." 

An  hour  after  that  time  Louis  entered  the  train  at  War- 
borne,  and  was  speedily  crossing  a  country  of  ragged  wood- 
land, which,  although  intruded  on  by  the  plow  at  places, 
remained  largely  intact  from  prehistoric  times,  and  still 
abounded  with  yews  of  gigantic  growth,  and  oaks  tufted 
with  mistletoe.      It  was  the  route  to  Melchester. 


33 a  TPVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

On  setting  foot  in  that  city,  he  took  the  cathedial  spire 
as  his  guide,  the  place  being  strange  to  him;  and  went 
on  till  he  reached  the  archway  dividing  Melchester  sacred 
from  Melchester  secular.  Thence  he  threaded  his  course 
into  the  precincts  of  the  damp  and  venerable  Close,  level 
as  a  bowling-green,  and  beloved  of  rooks,  who  from  their 
elm  perches  on  high  threatened  any  unwary  gazer  with 
the  mishap  of  Tobit.  At  the  corner  of  this  reposeful  spot 
stood  the  episcopal  palace. 

Louis  entered  the  gates,  rang  the  bell,  and  looked 
around.  Here  the  trees  and  rooks  seemed  older,  if  pos- 
sible, than  those  in  the  Close  behind  him.  Everything 
was  dignified,  and  he  felt  himself  like  Punchinello  in  the 
king's  chambers.  Verily,  in  the  present  case,  Glanville 
was  not  a  man  to  stick  at  trifles  any  more  than  his  illus- 
trious prototype;  and,  on  the  servant  bringing  a  message 
that  his  lordship  would  see  him  at  once,  Louis  marched 
boldly  in. 

Through  an  old  dark  corridor,  roofed  with  old  dark 
beams,  the  servant  led  the  way  to  the  heavily  molded 
door  of  the  Bishop's  room.  Dr.  Helmsdale  was  there, 
and  welcomed  Louis  with  considerable  stateliness.  But 
his  condescension  was  tempered  with  a  curious  anxiety, 
and  even  with  nervousness. 

He  asked  in  pointed  tones  after  the  health  of  Lady 
Constantine;  if  Louis  had  brought  an  answer  to  the  letter 
he  had  addressed  to  her  a  day  or  two  earlier;  and  if  the  con- 
tents of  the  letter,  or  the  previous  one,  were  known  to  him. 

"1  have  brought  no  answer  from  her,"  said  Louis. 
"But  the  contents  of  your  letter  have  been  made  known 
to  me. " 


riVO    ON  A    TOWER.  333 

Since  entering  the  building  Louis  had  more  than  once 
felt  some  hesitation,  and  it  niiglit  now,  with  a  favoiing 
manner  from  his  entertainer,  have  operated  to  deter  him 
from  going  further  with  his  intention.  But  the  Bishop 
had  personal  weaknesses  that  were  fatal  to  sympathy  for 
more  than  a  moment. 

"Then  I  may  speak  in  confidence  to  you  as  her  nearest 
relative,'"  said  his  lordship,  "and  explain  that  I  am  now 
in  a  i)osilitin  with  regard  to  Lady  Constantine  which  in 
view  of  the  important  office  I  hold  I  should  not  have  cared 
to  place  myself  in,  unless  I  had  felt  quite  sure  of  not  being 
refused  by  her.  And  hence  it  is  a  great  grief  and  some 
mortification  to  me  that  I  was  refused;  owing,  of  course, 
to  the  fact  that  I  unwittingly  risked  making  my  proposal 
at  the  very  moment  when  she  was  under  the  influence  of 
those  strange  tidings,  and  hence  not  able  to  judge  what 
was  best  for  her. " 

The  Bishop's  words  disclosed  a  mind  whose  sensitive 
fear  of  danger  to  its  own  dignity  hindered  it  from  criti- 
cism elsewhere.  Things  might  have  been  worse  for 
Louis's  Puck-like  idea  of  mismating  his  Hermia  with 
this  Demetrius. 

Throwing  a  strong  flavor  of  earnestness  into  his  mien, 
he  replied,  "Your  lordship,  Viviette  is  my  only  sister;  I 
am  her  only  brother  and  friend.  I  am  alarmed  for  her 
health  and  state  of  mind.  Hence  I  have  come  to  consult 
you  on  this  very  matter  that  you  have  broached.  I  come 
absolutely  without  her  knowledge,  and  I  hope  unconven- 
tionality  may  be  excused  in  me  on  the  score  of  my  anxiety 
for  her." 

"Certainly.     I   trust  that  the  prospect  opened  up  by 


334  TIVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

my  proposal,  combined  with  this  other  news,  has  not  proved 
too  much  for  her." 

"  My  sister  is  distracted  and  distressed,  Bishop  Helms- 
dale.     She  wants  comfort." 

"Not  distressed  by  my  letter  ^  "  said  the  Bishop,  turning 
red.      "  Has  it  lowered  me  in  her  estimation.?" 

"On  the  contrary,  while  your  disinterested  offer  was 
uppermost  in  her  mind  she  was  a  different  woman.  It  is 
this  other  matter  that  oppresses  her.  The  result  upon  her 
of  the  recent  discovery  with  regard  to  the  late  Sir  Blount 
Constantine  is  peculiar.  To  say  that  he  ill  used  her  in 
his  life-time  is  to  understate  a  truth.  He  has  been  dead 
now  a  considerable  period;  but  this  revival  of  his  memory 
operates  as  a  sort  of  terror  upon  her.  Images  of  the  man- 
ner of  Sir  Blount's  death  are  with  her  night  and  day,  in- 
tensified by  a  hideous  picture  of  the  supposed  scene,  which 
was  cruelly  sent  her.  She  dreads  being  alone.  Nothing 
will  restore  my  poor  Viviette  to  her  former  cheerfulness 
but  a  distraction,  a  hope,  a  new  prospect." 

' '  That  is  precisely  what  acceptance  of  my  offer  would 
afford." 

"  Precisely,"  said  Louis,  with  great  respect.  "But  how 
to  get  her  to  avail  herself  of  it,  after  once  refusing  you,  is 
the  difficulty,  and  my  earnest  problem  !  " 

"Then  we  are  quite  at  one  !  " 

"We  are.  And  it  is  to  promote  our  wishes  that  I  am 
come,  since  she  will  do  nothing  of  herself" 

"Then  you  can  give  me  no  hope  of  a  reply  to  my  sec- 
ond communication.?" 

"None  whatever,  by  letter,"  said  Louis.  "  Her  impres- 
sion, plainly,  is  that  she  cannot  encourage  your  lordship. 


TJVO    ON  A    TOWER.  335 

Yet,  in  the  face  of  all  this  reticence,  the  secret  is  that  she 
loves  you  warmly." 

"  Can  you  indeed  assure  me  of  that  ?  Indeed, — indeed  !  " 
said  Bishop  Helmsdale  musingly.  "Then  I  must  try  to 
see  her.  I  begin  to  feel — to  feel  strongly — that  a  course 
which  would  seem  premature  and  unbecoming  in  other 
cases  would  be  true  and  proper  conduct  in  this.  Her 
unhappy  dilemmas,  her  unwonted  position,  yes,  yes,  I  see 
it  all  !  I  can  afford  to  have  some  little  misconstruction 
put  upon  my  motives.  I  will  go  and  see  her  immediately. 
Her  past  has  been  a  cruel  one;  she  wants  sympathy,  and 
with  Heaven's  help  I'll  give  it." 

"I  think  the  remedy  lies  that  way,"  said  Louis  gently. 
"  Some  words  came  from  her  one  night  which  seemed  to 
show  it.  I  was  standing  on  the  terrace:  I  heard  some- 
body sigh  in  the  dark,  and  found  that  it  was  she.  I  asked 
her  what  was  the  matter,  and  gently  pressed  her  on  this 
subject  of  boldly  and  promptly  contracting  a  new  marriage 
as  a  means  of  dispersing  the  horrors  of  the  old.  Her  an- 
swer implied  that  she  would  have  no  objection  to  do  it, 
and  to  do  it  at  once,  provided  she  could  remain  externally 
passive  in  the  matter:  that  she  would  tacitly  yield,  in  fact, 
to  pressure,  but  would  not  meet  solicitation  half-way. 
Now,  Bishop  Helmsdale,  you  see  what  has  prompted  me. 
On  the  one  hand  is  a  dignitary  of  high  position  and  integ- 
rity, to  say  no  more,  who  is  anxious  to  save  her  from  the 
gloom  of  her  situation;  on  the  other  is  this  sister,  who  will 
not  make  known  to  you  her  willingness  to  be  saved, — 
partly  from  apathy,  partly  from  a  fear  that  she  may  be 
thought  forward  in  responding  favorably  at  so  early  a  mo- 
ment; partly,  also,  perhaps,  from  a  modest  sense  that  there 


336  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

would  be  some  sacrifice  on  your  part  in  allying  yourself 
with  a  woman  of  her  secluded  and  sad  experience." 

"Oh,  there  is  no  sacrifice  !  Quite  otherwise.  I  care 
greatly  for  this  alliance,  Mr.  Glanville.  Your  sister  is  very 
dear  to  me.  Moreover,  the  advantages  her  mind  would 
derive  from  the  enlarged  field  of  activity  that  the  position 
of  a  bishop's  wife  would  afford  are  palpable.  I  am  in- 
duced to  think  that  an  early  settlement  of  the  question, 
an  immediate  coming  to  the  point,  which  might  be  called 
too  early  in  the  majority  of  cases,  would  be  a  right  and 
considerate  tenderness  here.  My  only  dread  is  lest  she 
should  think  an  immediate  following  up  of  the  subject 
premature.  And  the  risk  of  a  rebuff  a  second  time  is  one 
which,  as  you  must  perceive,  it  would  be  highly  unbe- 
coming in  me  to  run.'' 

"I  think  the  risk  would  be  small,  if  your  lordship 
would  approach  her  frankly.  Write  she  will  not,  I  am 
assured;  and  having  her  interest  at  heart,  it  was  that  which 
induced  me  to  come  to  you,  and  make  this  candid  state- 
ment in  reply  to  your  communication.  Her  late  hu.sband 
having  been  virtually  dead  these  four  or  five  years,  believed 
dead  two  years,  and  actually  dead  nearly  one,  no  reproach 
could  attach  to  her  if  she  were  to  contract  another  union 
to-  morrow. " 

"I  agree  with  you,  Mr.  Glanville,"  said  the  Bishop, 
warmly.  "  I  will  think  this  over.  Her  motive  in  not  re- 
plying I  can  quite  understand;  your  motive  in  coming  I 
can  also  understand  and  appreciate  in  a  brother.  If  I  feel 
convinced  that  it  would  be  a  seemly  and  expedient  thing, 
I  will  come  to  Welland  to  morrow. " 

The  point  to  which  Louis  had  brought  the  Bishop  being 


TtVO    ON  A     TOWER.  337 

SO  satisfactory,  he  feared  to  endanger  it  by  another  word. 
The  interview  having  ended  as  far  as  its  object  was  con- 
cerned, he  went  away  almost  hurriedly,  and  at  once  left 
the  precincts  of  the  cathedral,  lest  another  encounter  with 
Bishop  Helmsdale  should  lead  the  latter  to  take  a  new 
and  slower  view  of  his  duties  as  Viviette's  suitor. 

He  reached  Welland  by  dinner-time,  and  came  upon  Vi- 
viette  in  the  same  pensive  mood  in  which  he  had  left  her. 
It  seemed  that  she  had  hardly  moved  since. 

"  Have  you  discovered  Swithin  St.  Cleeve's  address.'*" 
she  said,  without  looking  up  at  him. 

"No,"  said  Louis. 

Then  she  broke  out  with  indescribable  anguish:  "But 
you  asked  me  to  wait  till  this  evening;  and  I  have  waited 
through  the  long  day  in  the  belief  that  your  words  meant 
something,  and  that  you  would  bring  good  tidings  1  And 
now  I  find  your  words  meant  nothing,  and  you  have  not 
brought  good  tidings  !  " 

Louis  could  not  decide  for  a  moment  what  to  say  to  this. 
Should  he  venture  to  give  her  thoughts  a  new  course  by  a 
revelation  of  his  design  .-^  No;  it  would  be  better  to  pro- 
long her  despair  yet  another  night,  and  spring  relief  upon 
her  suddenly,  that  she  might  jump  at  it,  and  commit  her- 
self without  an  interval  for  reflection  on  certain  aspects  of 
the  proceeding. 

Nothing,  accordingly,  did  he  say,  and,  conjecturing  that 
she  would  be  hardly  likely  to  take  any  desperate  step  that 
night,    he  left  her  to  herself 

His  anxiety  at  this  crisis  began  to  be  great.  Ever}'thing 
depended  on  the  result  of  the  Bishop's  self-communion. 
Would  he,  or  would  he  not,  come  the  next  day }    Perhaps 


338  TIVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

instead  of  his  important  presence  there  would  appear  a 
letter  postponing  the  visit  indefinitely;  if  so,  all  would  be 
lost.  The  Bishop  was  as  abjectly  in  love  as  only  pompous 
people  can  be;  and  this  thought  gave  him  hope. 

Louiss  suspense  kept  him  awake,  and  he  was  not  alone 
in  his  sleeplessness.  Through  the  night  he  heard  his  sis- 
ter walking  up  and  down,  in  a  state  which  betokened  that 
for  every  pang  of  grief  she  had  disclosed  twice  as  many 
had  remained  unspoken.  He  almost  feared  that  she  might 
seek  to  end  her  existence  by  violence,  so  unreasonably 
sudden  were  her  moods;  and  he  lay  and  longed  for  the  day. 

It  was  morning.  She  came  down  the  same  as  usual, 
and  asked  if  there  had  arrived  any  telegram  or  letter;  but 
there  was  neither.  Louis  avoided  her,  knowing  that  noth- 
ing he  could  say  just  then  would  do  her  any  good.  No 
communication  had  reached  him  from  the  Bishop,  and 
that  looked  well.  By  one  ruse  and  another,  as  the  day  went 
on,  he  led  her  away  from  contemplating  the  remote  possi- 
bility of  hearing  from  Swithin,  and  led  her  to  look  at  the 
worst  contingency  as  her  probable  fate.  It  seemed  as  if 
she  really  made  up  her  mind  to  this,  for  by  the  afternoon 
she  was  apathetic,  like  a  woman  who  neither  hoped  nor 
feared. 

And  then  a  fly  drove  up  to  the  door. 

Louis,  who  had  been  standing  in  the  hall  the  greater 
part  of  that  day,  glanced  out  through  a  private  window, 
and  went  to  Viviette.  "The  Bishop  has  called,"  he  said. 
"Be  ready  to  see  him." 

' '  The  Bishop  of  Melchester  ^  "  said  Viviette,  bewildered. 

"Yes.  I  asked  him  to  come.  He  comes  for  an  an- 
swer to  his  letters. " 


TIVO    ON  A     TOWER.  339 

"An  answer — to — his — letters?  "  she  murmured. 

"An  immediate  reply  of  yes  or  no." 

Her  face  showed  the  workings  of  her  mind.  How  en- 
tirely an  answer  of  assent,  at  once  acted  on  for  better  or 
for  worse,  would  clear  the  specter  from  her  path,  there 
needed  no  tongue  to  tell.  It  would,  moreover,  accom- 
plish that  end  without  involving  the  impoverishment  of 
Swithin,  the  inevitable  result  if  she  had  adopted  the  legiti- 
mate road  out  of  her  trouble.  Hitherto  there  had  seemed 
to  her  dismayed  mind,  unenlightened  as  to  any  course 
save  one  of  honesty,  no  possible  achievement  of  bolh  her 
desires, — the  saving  of  Swithin  and  the  saving  of  herself. 
But  behold,  here  was  a  way  !  A  tempter  had  shown  it  to 
her.  It  involved  a  great  wrong,  which  to  her  had  quite 
obscured  its  feasibility.  But  she  perceived  now  that  it  was 
indeed  a  way.  Nature  was  forcing  her  hand  at  this  game; 
and  to  what  will  not  nature  compel  her  weaker  victims  in 
extremes .'' 

Louis  left  her  to  think  it  out.  When  he  reached  the 
drawing-room  Dr.  Helmsdale  was  standing  there,  with  the 
air  of  a  man  too  good  for  his  errand, — which  was,  indeed, 
not  lar  from  the  truth. 

"Have  you  broken  my  message  to  her.'"  asked  the 
Bishop  sonorously. 

"Not  your  message;  your  visit,"  said  Louis.  "I  leave 
the  rest  in  your  lordship's  hands.  I  have  Qone  all  I  can 
for  her. " 

V'iviette  was  in  her  own  small  room  to-day.  Feeling 
that  it  must  be  a  bold  stroke  or  none,  Louis  led  the  Bish- 
op across  the  hall  till  they  reached  the  apartment,  opened 
the  door,  and,  instead  of  follo-.ving,  shut  it  be!;ind  \\m,. 


340  TWO    ON  A     TOWER. 

Then  Glanville  passed  an  anxious  time.  He  walked 
from  the  foot  of  the  staircase  to  the  star  of  old  swords  and 
pikes  on  the  wall;  from  these  to  the  stags'  horns;  thence 
down  the  corridor  as  far  as  the  door,  where  he  could  hear 
murmuring  inside,  but  not  its  import.  The  longer  they 
remained  closeted,  the  more  excited  did  he  become.  That 
she  had  not  peremptorily  negatived  the  proposal  at  the  out- 
set was  a  strong  sign  of  its  success.  It  showed  that  she 
had  admitted  argument;  and  the  worthy  Bishop  had  a 
pleader  on  his  side  whom  he  knew  little  of.  The  very 
weaiher  seemed  to  favor  Dr.  Helmsdale  in  his  suit.  A 
blusterous  wind  had  blown  up  from  the  west,  howling  in 
the  smokeless  chimneys,  and  suggesting  to  the  feminine 
mind  storms  at  sea,  a  tossing  ocean,  and  the  hopeless  in- 
accessibility of  all  astronomers  and  men  on  the  other  side 
of  the  same.  The  Bishop  had  entered  Viviette's  room  at  ten 
minutes  past  three.  The  longhand  of  the  hall  clock  lay  level 
at  forty-five  minutes  past  when  the  knob  of  the  door  moved, 
and  became  out.  Louis  met  him  where  the  passage  joined  the 
hall.  Dr.  Helmsdale  was  decidedly  in  an  emotional  state, 
his  face  being  slightly  flushed.  Louis  looked  his  anxious 
inquiry  without  speaking  it. 

"She  accepts  me,''  said  the  Bishop  in  a  low  voice. 
"And  the  wedding  is  to  be  soon.  Her  long  solitude  and 
sufferings  justify  haste.  What  you  said  was  true.  Sheer 
weariness  and  distraction  have  driven  her  to  me.  She  was 
quite  passive  at  last,  and  agreed  to  anything  I  proposed, 
— such  is  the  persuasive  force  of  a  trained  mind  !  A  good 
and  wise  woman,  she  perceived  what  a  true  shelter  from 
sadness  was  offered,  and  was  not  the  one  to  despise 
Heaven's  gift." 


CHAPTER    XL. 

THE  silence  of  Swithin  was  to  be  accounted  for  by  the 
circumstance  that  neither  to  Marseilles  nor  to  America 
had  he,  in  the  first  place,  directed  his  steps.  Feeling  him- 
self absolutely  free,  he  had,  upon  arriving  at  Southampton, 
decided  to  make  straight  for  the  Cape.  His  object  was  to 
leave  his  heavier  luggage  there,  examine  the  capabilities 
of  the  spot  for  his  purpose,  find  out  the  necessity  or  other- 
wise of  shipping  over  his  own  equatorial,  and  then  cross 
to  America  as  soon  as  there  was  a  good  opportunity. 
Here  he  might  inquire  the  movements  of  the  transit  expe- 
dition to  the  South  Pacific,  and  join  it  at  such  a  point  as 
might  be  convenient. 

Thus,  though  wrong  in  her  premises,  Viviette  had  in- 
tuitively decided  with  absolute  precision.  There  was,  a? 
a  matter  of  fact,  no  chance  of  her  being  able  to  communi- 
cate with  him  for  several  months,  notwithstanding  that  he 
might  possibly  communicate  with  her. 

This  excursive  time  was  an  awakening  for  Swithin.  Tc 
altered  circumstances  inevitably  followed  altered  views. 
That  such  changes  should  have  a  marked  effect  upon  a 
young  m;in  wIhj  had  made  neither  grand  tour  nor  petty 
one, — will)  had.  in  short,  scarcelv  been  away  from   home 


34  2  TJVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

in  his  life, — was  nothing  more  than  natural.  New  ideas 
struggled  to  disclose  themselves;  and  with  the  addition  of 
strange  twinklers  to  his  southern  horizon  came  an  absorbed 
attention  that  way,  and  a  corresponding  forgetfulness  of 
what  lay  to  the  north,  behind  his  back,  whether  human 
or  celestial.  Whoever  may  deplore  it,  few  will  wonder 
that  Viviette,  who  till  then  had  stood  high  in  his  heaven, 
if  she  had  not  dominated  it,  sank  lower  and  lower,  like 
the  North  Star.  Master  of  a  large  advance  of  his  first 
year's  income  in  circular  notes  and  other  forms,  he  per- 
haps too  readily  forgot  that  the  mere  act  of  honor,  but  foi 
her  self-suppression,  would  have  rendered  him  penniless. 

Meanwhile,  to  come  back  and  claim  her  at  the  specified 
time,  four  years  thence,  if  she  did  not  object  to  be  claimed, 
was  as  much  a  part  of  his  programme  as  were  the  exploits 
abroad  and  elsewhere  that  were  to  prelude  it.  The  very 
thoroughness  of  his  intention  for  that  advanced  date  in- 
clined him  all  the  more  to  shelve  the  subject  now.  Her 
unhappy  caution  to  him  not  to  write  too  soon  was  a  com- 
fortable license  in  his  present  state  of  tensity  about  sublime 
scientific  things,  which  knew  not  woman,  nor  her  sacri- 
fices, nor  her  fears.  In  truth,  he  was  not  only  too  young 
in  years,  but  too  literal,  direct,  and  uncompromising  in 
nature,  to  understand  such  a  woman  as  Lady  Constan- 
tine;  and  she  suffered  for  that  limitation  in  him,  as  was 
antecedently  probable  she  would  do. 

He  staid  but  a  little  time  at  Cape  Town,  on  this  first, 
reconiioitering  journey,  and  on  that  account  wrote  to  no 
one  from  there.  On  leaving,  he  found  there  remained 
some  weeks  on  his  hands  before  he  wished  to  cross  to 
America,   and  feeling  an  irrepressible  desire  for  further 


TfVO    ON  A     TOWER.  343 

studies  in  navigation  under  clear  skies,  he  took  the  steamer 
for  INIelbourne;  returning  thence  in  due  time,  and  pursu- 
ing his  journey  to  America,  where  he  landed  at  Boston. 
Having  at  last  had  enough  of  great  circles  and  other  nau- 
tical reckonings,  and  taking  no  interest  in  men  or  cities, 
this  indeflitigablc  scrutineer  of  the  universe  went  immedi- 
ately to  Cambridge;  and  there,  by  the  help  of  an  intrc-du  :- 
tion  he  had  brought  from  England,  he  reveled  for  a  time 
in  the  glories  of  the  gigantic  refractor  (which  he  was  per- 
mitted to  use  on  odd  occasions),  and  in  the  pleasures  of 
intercourse  with  the  sciendfic  group  around.  This  brought 
him  on  to  the  tirne  of  starting  with  the  transit  expedition, 
when  he  and  his  kind  became  lost  to  the  eye  of  civiliza- 
tion behind  the  horizon  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

To  speak  of  their  doings  on  this  pilgrimage,  of  ingress 
and  egress,  of  tangent  and  parallax,  of  external  and  inter- 
nal contact,  would  avail  nothing.  Is  it  not  all  written  in 
the  chronicles  of  the  Astronomical  Society  1  More  to  the 
point  will  it  be  to  mention  that  poor  Viviette's  telegram  and 
letter  to  Cambridge  had  been  returned  long  before  Swithin 
reached  that  place,  while  her  missives  to  Marseilles  were  of 
course  misdirected  altogether.  On  arriving  in  America, 
uncertain  of  an  address  in  that  country  to  which  he  would 
return,  Swithin  wrote  his  first  letter  to  his  grandmother; 
and  in  this  he  directed  that  all  communications  should  be 
sent  to  await  him  at  Cape  Town,  as  the  only  safe  spot  for 
finding  him  sooner  or  later.  The  equatorial  he  also  di- 
rected to  be  forwarded  to  the  same  place.  At  this  dme, 
too,  he  ventured  to  break  Viviette's  commands,  and  ad- 
dress a  letter  to  her,  not  knowing  of  the  strange  results 
that  had  followed  his  absence  from  home. 


344  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

It  was  February.  The  transit  was  over;  thj  scientific 
company  had  broken  up;  and  Swithin  had  steamed  tow- 
artls  tlie  Cape,  to  take  up  his  permanent  abode  there,  with 
;i  view  to  his  great  task  of  surveying,  charting,  and  theoriz- 
ing on  those  exceptional  features  in  the  southern  skies 
wliich  had  been  but  inadequately  treated  bytheycunger 
Herschel.  Having  entered  Table  Bay,  and  landed  on  the 
quay,  he  called  at  once  at  the  post-office. 

Two  letters  were  handed  him,  and  he  found  from  the 
date  that  they  had  been  waiting  there  for  some  time.  One 
of  these  epistles,  which  had  a  weather-worn  look  as  re- 
garded the  ink,  and  was  in  old-fashioned  penmanship,  he 
knew  to  be  from  his  grandmother,  and  opened  it  b^ore 
he  had  as  much  as  glanced  at  the  superscription  of  the 
second. 

Besides  immaterial  portions,  it  contained  the  following: — 

J  reckon  you  know  by  now  of  our  main  news  Uiis  fall,  but  lest 
you  should  not  have  heard  of  it  J  send  the  exact  thing  snipped  out  of 
the  new.spaper.  Nobody  expected  her  to  do  it  quite  so  soon;  but  it 
is  said  hereabout  that  my  lord  bishop  and  my  lady  had  been  drawing 
nigh  to  an  understanding  before  the  glum  tidings  of  Sir  Blount's  a  taking 
of  his  own  life  reached  her;  and  the  account  of  this  wicked  deed  was  so 
sore  afflicting  to  her  mind,  and  made  her  poor  heart  so  timid  and  low, 
that  in  charity  to  her  her  few  friends  agreed  on  urging  her  to  let  the 
bishop  go  on  paying  his  court  as  before,  notwithstanding  she  had  not 
been  a  widow-woman  near  so  long  as  was  thought.  'I'his,  as  it  turned 
out,  she  was  willing  to  do;  and  when  my  lord  asked  her  she  lol  1  hiin 
s!ie  would  marry  him  at  once  or  never.  That's  as  J  ^vas  told,  ixiA  J 
had  it  from  those  that  know. 

The  cutting  from  the  newspaper  was  an  ordinary  an- 
nouncement of  marriage  between  the  Bishop  of  Melchester 
and  Lady  Constantine. 


TWO    ON   A     TOWER.  345 

Swithin  was  so  astounded  at  the  intelligence  of  what  foi 
the  nonce  seemed  Viviette's  wanton  fickleness,  that  he 
quite  omitted  to  look  at  the  second  letter,  and  remem- 
bered nothing  about  it  till  an  hour  afterwards,  when  sitting 
in  his  room  at  the  hotel. 

It  was  in  her  handwriting,  but  so  altered  that  its  super- 
scription had  not  arrested  his  eye.  It  had  no  beginning, 
or  date;  but  its  contents  soon  acquainted  him  with  her 
motive  for  the  precipitate  act.  The  few  concluding  sen- 
tences are  all  that  it  will  be  necessary  to  quote  here:^ 

There  was  no  way  out  of  it,  even  if  I  could  have  found  you,  without 
infringing  one  of  the  conditions  I  had  previously  laid  down.  The  long 
desne  of  my  heart  has  been  not  to  impoverish  you  or  mar  your  career. 
The  new  desire  was  to  save  myself  and  another.  ...  I  have  done 
a  desperate  thing.  Yet  for  myself  I  could  do  no  better,  and  for  you 
no  less.  I  would  have  sacrificed  my  single  self  to  honesty;  but  I 
was  not  alone  concerned.  What  woman  has  a  right  to  blight  a  com- 
ing life  to  pre-^erve  her  personal  soul  ?  .  .  .  The  one  bright  spot  is 
that  it  Kives  you  and  your  endowment  from  further  catastrophes,  and 
preserves  you  lo  the  pleasant  paths  of  scientific  fame.  I  no  longer  lie 
like  a  log  across  your  path,  which  is  now  as  open  as  on  the  day  be- 
fore you  saw  me,  and  ere  I  encouraged  you  to  win  me.  Alas,  Swith- 
in, I  ought  to  have  known  better !  The  folly  was  great,  and  the 
suffering  be  upon  my  head  !  1  have  borne  much,  and  am  not  unpre- 
pared. As  for  you,  Swithin,  by  simply  pressmg  straight  on,  your 
triumph  i;  assured.  Do  not  communicate  with  me  in  any  way, — not 
even  in  answer  to  this.  Do  not  think  of  me.  Do  not  see  me  ever 
any  more.  Your  unhappy 

ViVIETTE. 

Swithin's  heart  swelled  within  him  in  sudden  pity  for 
her,  first;  then  he  blanched  with  a  horrified  sense  of  what 
she  had  done,  and  at  his  own  relation  to  the  deed.      He 


346  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

felt  like  an  awakened  somnambulist,  who  should  find  that 
he  had  been  accessory  to  a  tragedy  during  a  period  of 
unconsciousness.  She  had  loosened  the  knot  of  her  dif- 
ficulties by  cutting  it  unscrupulously  through  and  through. 
The  big  tidings  rather  dazed  than  crushed  him,  his  pre- 
dominant feeling  being  soon  again  one  of  keenest  sorrow 
and  sympathy.  Yet  one  thing  was  obvious:  he  could  do 
nothing, — absolutely  nothing.  The  event  which  he  now 
heard  of  for  the  first  time  had  taken  place  five  long,  months 
ago.  He  reflected,  and  regretted,  and  mechanically  went 
on  with  his  preparations  for  settling  down  to  work  under 
the  shadow  of  Table  Mountain.  He  was  as  one  who  sutl- 
denly  finds  the  world  a  stranger  place  than  he  thought;  but 
is  excluded  by  age,  temperament,  and  situation  from  be- 
ing much  more  than  an  astonished  spectator  of  its  strange- 
ness. 

The  Royal  Observatory  was  about  a  mile  out  of  the  town, 
and  hither  he  repaired  as  soon  as  he  had  established  him- 
self in  lodgings.  He  had  decided,  on  his  first  visit  to  the 
Cape,  that  it  would  be  highly  advantageous  to  him  if  he 
could  supplement  the  occasional  use  of  the  large  instru- 
ments here  by  the  use  at  his  own  house  of  his  own  equa- 
torial, and  had  accordingly  given  directions  that  it  might 
be  sent  over  from  England.  The  precious  possession  now 
arrived;  and  although  the  sight  of  it — of  the  brasses  on  which 
her  hand  had  often  rested,  of  the  eye-piece  through  which 
her  dark  eye  had  beamed — engendered  some  decidedly 
bitter  regrets  in  him  for  a  time,  he  could  not  long  afford 
to  give  to  the  past  the  days  that  were  meant  for  the  future. 

Unable  to  get  a  room  convenient  for  a  private  observa- 


TfVO    ON-  A    TOWER.  34? 

tory,  he  resolved  at  last  to  fix  the  instrument  en  a  solid 
pillar  in  the  garden;  and  several  days  were  spent  in  accom- 
modating it  to  its  new  position.  In  this  latitude  there  was 
no  necessity  for  economizing  clear  nights,  as  he  had  been 
obliged  to  do  on  the  old  tower  at  Welland.  There  it  had 
happened  more  than  once,  to  his  sorrow,  that,  after  he  had 
waited  idle  through  days  and  nights  of  cloudy  weather, 
poor  Viviette  would  fix  her  time  for  meeting  him  at  an 
hour  when  at  lasf  he  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  the  sky; 
so  that  m  giving  to  her  the  golden  moments  of  cloudles?- 
ness  he  was  losing  his  chance  with  the  orbs  above.  But 
here  there  was  clear  atmosphere  enough  for  both  science 
and  love,  had  an  object  for  the  latter  been  present  with  him. 

Those  features  which  usually  attract  the  eye  of  the  visi- 
tor to  a  new  latitude  are  the  novel  forms  of  human  and 
vegetable  life,  and  other  such  sublunary  things.  But  our 
young  man  glanced  slightingly  at  these:  the  changes  over- 
head had  his  attention.  The  old  subject  was  imprinted 
there,  but  in  a  new  type.  Here  was  a  heaven  fixed  and 
ancient  as  the  northern;  yet  it  had  never  appeared  above 
the  Welland  hills  since  they  were  heaved  up  from  beneath. 
Here  was  an  unalterable  circumpolar  region:  but  the  polar 
patterns,  stereotyped  in  history  and  legend,  without  which 
it  had  almost  seemed  that  a  polar  sky  could  not  exist,  had 
never  been  seen  therein. 

St.  Cleeve,  as  was  natural,  began  by  cursory  surveys, 
which  were  not  likely  to  be  of  much  utility  to  the  world 
or  to  himself  He  wasted  several  weeks — indeed,  above 
two  months — in  a  comparatively  idle  survey  of  southern 
novelties;  in  the  mere  luxury  of  looking  at  stellar  objects 
whose  wonders  were  known,  recounted,  and  classified  long 


348  TIVO    ON  A    TOWER. 

before  his  own  personality  had  been  heard  of.  With  a 
child's  simple  delight,  he  allowed  his  instrument  to  rove 
evening  after  evening  from  the  gorgeous  glitter  of  Canopus 
to  the  hazy  clouds  of  Magellan.  Before  he  had  well  fin- 
ished this  optical  prelude  there  floated  over  to  him  from 
the  other  side  of  the  equator  the  postscript  to  the  epistle 
of  his  poor  Viviette.  It  came  in  the  vehicle  of  a  common 
newspaper,  under  the  head  of  "Births:  " — 

"April   lo.    18 — ,   at  The   I'alace,    Melchester,    Lady 
Helmsdale,  ofason.'"' 


CHAPTER    XU. 

npHREE  years  passed  away,  and  Swithin  still  remained 
^  at  the  Cape,  quietly  pursuing  the  work  that  had 
brought  him  there.  His  memoranda  of  observations  had 
accumulated  to  a  wheelbarrow  load,  and  he  was  beginning 
to  shape  them  into  a  work  of  scientific  utility. 

He  had  gauged  the  southern  skies  with  greater  results 
than  even  he  himself  had  anticipated.  Those  unfamiliar 
constellations  which,  to  the  casual  beholder,  are  at  most 
a  new  arrangement  of  ordinar}'  points  of  light  were  to 
this  professed  astronomer,  as  to  his  brethren,  a  far  greater 
matter.  It  was  below  the  surface  that  his  material  lay. 
There,  in  regions  revealed  only  to  the  instrumental  ob- 
server, were  suns  of  hybrid  kind,  fire  fogs,  floating  world 
pollen,  globes  that  flew  in  groups,  like  swarms  of  bees, 
and  other  extraordinary  sights,  which,  when  decomposed 
by  Swithin's  equatorial,  turned  out  to  be  the  beginning 
of  a  new  series  of  phenomena,  instead  of  the  end  of  an 
old  one. 

There  were  gloomy  deserts  in  those  southern  skies, 
such  as  the  north  shows  scarcely  an  example  of;  sites  set 


350  riVO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

apart  for  the  position  of  suns,  which  for  some  unfathom- 
able reason  were  left  uncreated,  their  places  remaining  con 
spicuous  by  their  emptiness. 

The  inspection  of  these  chasms  brought  him  a  second 
pulsation  of  that  old  horror  which  he  had  used  to  describe 
to  Viviette  as  produced  in  him  by  bottomlessness  in  the 
north  heaven.  The  ghostly  finger  of  limitless  vacancy 
touched  him  now  on  the  other  side.  Infinite  deeps  in 
the  north  stellar  region  had  a  homely  familiarity  about 
them  when  compared  with  infinite  deeps  in  the  region  of 
the  south  pole.  This  was  an  even  more  unknown  tract 
of  the  unknown;  space  here,  being  less  the  historic  haunt 
of  human  thought  than  overhead  at  home,  seemed  per- 
vaded with  a  more  lonely  loneliness. 

Were  there  given  on  paper  to  these  astronomical  exer- 
citations  of  St.  Cleeve  a  space  proportionable  to  that  oc- 
cupied by  his  year  with  Viviette  at  Welland,  this  narrative 
would  treble  its  length;  but  not  a  single  additional  glimpse 
would  be  afforded  of  Swithin  in  his  relations  with  old 
emotions.  In  these  experiments  with  convex  glasses,  im- 
portant as  they  were  to  eye  and  intellect,  there  was  little 
food  for  the  sympathetic  instincts  which  create  the  changes 
in  a  life,  and  therefore  are  more  particularly  the  question 
here.  That  which  is  the  foreground  and  measuring  base 
of  one  perspective  draught  may  be  the  vanishing-point  of 
another  perspective  draught,  while  yet  they  are  both  draughts 
of  the  same  tKing.  Swithin's  doings  and  discoveries  in 
the  southern  sidereal  .system  were,  no  doubt,  incidents  of 
the  highest  importance  to  him;  and  yet,  from  our  present 
point  of  view,  they  served  but  the  humble  purpose  of  kill- 
ing lime,   while  other  doings,   more  nearly  allied  to  his 


TWO    ON  A    TOWER.  35 1 

heart  than  to  his  understanding,  developed  themselves  at 
home. 

In  the  intervals  between  his  professional  occupations 
he  took  walks  over  the  sand-flats  near,  or  among  the  farms 
wh'ch  were  gradually  overspreading  the  moors  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  Cape  Town.  He  grew  familiar  with  the  outline 
of  Table-IMountain,  and  the  fleecy  "Devil's  lable-Cloth  " 
which  used  to  settle  on  its  top  when  the  wind  was  south- 
east. On  these  promenades  he  would  more  particularly 
think  of  Viviette,  and  of  that  curious  pathetic  chapter  in 
his  life  with  her,  which  seemed  to  have  wound  itself  up 
and  ended  forever.  Those  scenes  were  rapidly  receding 
into  distance,  and  the  intensity  of  his  sentiment  regarding 
them  had  proportionately  abated.  He  felt  that  there  had 
been  something  wrong  in  that  period  of  his  existence, 
and  yet  he  could  not  exactly  define  the  boundary  of  the 
wrong.  Viviette's  sad  and  amazing  sequel  to  that  chapter 
had  still  a  fearful,  catastrophic  aspect  in  his  eyes;  but  in- 
stead of  musing  over  it  and  its  bearings,  he  shunned  the 
subject,  as  we  shun  by  night  the  shady  scene  of  a  tragedy, 
and  keep  to  the  open  road. 

He  sometimes  contemplated  her  apart  from  the  past, 
— leading  her  life  in  the  cathedral  Close  at  Melchester; 
and  wondered  how  often  she  looked  south  and  thought 
of  where  he  was. 

On  one  of  these  afternoon  walks  in  the  neighborhood 
ot"  the  Royal  Observatory,  he  turned  and  looked  towards 
the  signal-post  on  the  Lions  Rump.  This  was  a  high 
promonto.y  to  the  northwest  of  lable  Mountain,  which 
overlooked  Table  Bay.  Before  his  eyes  had  left  the  scene 
the  sign.il   was  suddenly  hoisted  on  the  staff.      This  an- 


352  TIVO    ON   A     TOWER. 

nounced  that  a  mail  steamer  had  appeared  in  view  i  ver 
the  sea.  He  retraced  his  steps,  as  he  had  often  done  on 
such  occasions,  and  strolled  leisurely  across  the  interven- 
ing mile  and  a  half,  till  he  arrived  at  the  post-office 
door. 

There  was  no  letter  from  England  for  him;  but  there 
was  a  newspaper,  addressed  in  the  seventeenth-century  hand- 
writing of  his  grandmother,  who,  in  spite  of  her  great  age, 
still  retained  a  steady  hold  on  life.  He  turned  away  dis- 
appointed, and  resumed  his  walk  into  the  country,  open- 
ing the  paper  as  he  went  along. 

A  cross  in  black  ink  attracted  his  attention;  and  it  was 
opposite  a  name  among  the  deaths.  His  blood  ran  icily 
as  he  discerned  the  word  "  Helmsdale."  But  it  was  not 
she.  Her  husband,  the  Bishop  of  Melchester,  had,  after 
a  short  illness,  departed  this  life  at  the  comparatively  early 
age  of  fifty  years. 

All  the  enactments  of  the  bygone  days  at  Welland  now 
started  up  like  an  awakened  army  from  the  ground.  Only 
a  few  months  were  wanting  to  the  time  when  he  would  be 
of  an  ag-e  to  marrv  withe  ut  sacrificing  the  annuitv  which 
formed  his  means  of  subsistence.  It  was  a  point  in  his  life 
that  had  had  no  meaning  or  interest  for  him  since  his  sep- 
aration from  \'iv!ette,  for  women  were  now  no  mure  to 
him  than  the  inhabitants  of  Jupiter.  However,  the  whirli- 
gig of  time  having  again  set  Viviette  free,  the  aspect  of 
home  altered,  and  conjecture  as  to  her  future  found  room 
to  work  anew. 

But  beyond  the  simple  fact  that  she  was  a  widow,  he  for 
some  time  gained  not  an  atom  of  intelligence  concerning 
her.      There  was  no  one  of  whom  he  could  inquire  but 


TWO    OjV  a     tower.  353 

his  grandmother,  and  she  could  tell  him  nothing  about 
a  lady  who  dwelt  far  away  at  Melchester. 

Several  months  slipped  by  thus:  and  no  feeling  within 
him  rose  to  sufficient  strength  to  force  him  out  of  a  passive 
attitude. 

Then,  by  the  merest  chance,  his  granny  stated,  in  one 
of  her  rambling  epistles,  that  Lady  Helmsdale  was  coming 
to  live  again  at  Welland,  in  the  old  house,  with  her  child, 
now  a  little  bov  between  three  and  four  vears  of  age. 

Swithin,  however,  lived  on  as  before. 

By  the  following  autumn  a  change  became  necessary 
for  the  young  man  himself  His  work  at  the  Cape  was 
done.  His  uncle's  wishes  that  he  should  study  there  had 
been  more  than  observed.  The  materials  for  his  great 
treatise  were  collected,  and  it  now  only  remained  for  hmi 
to  arrange,  digest,  and  publish  them,  for  which  purpose 
a  return  to  England  was  indispensable. 

So  the  equatorial  was  unscrewed  and  the  stand  taken 
down;  the  astronomer's  barrow-load  of  precious  memo- 
randa, and  rolls  upon  rolls  of  diagrams,  representing  three 
years  of  continuous  labor,  were  safely  packed;  and  Swith- 
in departed  for  good  and  all  from  the  shores  of  Cape 
Town. 

He  had  long  before  informed  his  grandmother  of  \.\\i 
date  at  which  she  might  expect  him,  and  in  a  reply  from 
her,  which  reached  him  just  previous  to  sailing,  she  casu- 
ally mentioned  that  she  frequently  saw  Lady  Helmsdale; 
that  on  the  last  occasion  her  ladyship  had  shown  great  in- 
terest in  the  information  that  Swithin  was  coming  home, 
and  had  inquired  the  time  of  his  return. 


354  TfFO    ON  A    TOlfER. 

On  a  late  summer  day  Swithin  stepped  from  the  train 
at  Warborne,  and,  directing  his  baggage  to  be  sent  on 
after  him,  set  out  on  foot  for  old  Welland  once  again. 

It  seemed  but  the  day  after  his  departure,  so  little  had 
the  scene  changed.  True,  there  was  that  change  which 
is  always  the  first  to  arrest  attention  in  places  that  are 
conventionally  called  unchanging, — a  higher  and  broader 
vegetation  at  every  familiar  corner  than  at  the  former  time. 

He  had  not  gone  a  mile  when  he  saw  walking  before 
him  a  clergyman,  whose  form,  after  consideration,  he 
recognized,  in  spite  of  a  novel  whiteness  in  that  part  of 
his  hair  that  showed  below  the  brim  of  his  hat.  Swithin 
walked  much  faster  than  this  gentleman,  and  soon  was  at 
his  side. 

"Mr.  Torkingham — I  knew  it  was  !  "  said  Swithin. 

Mr.  Torkingham  was  slower  in  recognizing  the  astrono- 
mer, but  in  a  moment  had  greeted  him  with  a  warm  shake 
of  the  hand. 

"  1  have  been  to  the  station  on  purpose  to  meet  you  !  " 
cried  Mr.  Torkingham;  "and  was  returning  with  the  idea 
that  you  had  not  come.  I  am  your  grandmother's  emissary. 
She  could  not  come  herself,  and  as  she  was  anxious,  and 
nobody  else  could  be  spared,  I  came  for  her." 

Then  they  walked  on  together.  The  parson  told  Swithin 
all  about  his  grandmother,  the  parish,  and  his  endeavors  to 
enlighten  it;  and  in  due  course  said,  "You  d.ie  no  doubt 
aware  that  Lady  Helmsdale — the  Lady  Constantine  of 
former  days — is  living  again  at  Welland. '' 

Swithin  said  he  had  heard  as  much,  and  added,  what 
was  perfectly  true,  that  the  news  of  the  Bishop's  death 
had  been  a  great  surprise  to  hira. 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  355 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Torkingham,  with  nine  thoughts  to 
one  word;  "one  might  have  prophesied,  to  look  at  him, 
that  Melchester  would  not  lack  a  bishop  for  the  next  forty 
rears.  Yes;  pale  death  knocks  at  the  cottages  of  the  poor 
and  the  palaces  of  kings  with  an  impartial  foot." 

"  Was  he  a — particularly  go;xl  man  '.  "  asked  Swithin. 

"  He  was  not  a  Ken,  or  a  Flebcr.  To  speak  candidly, 
he  had  his  faults,  of  which  arrogance  was  not  the  least. 
But  who  is  perfect  ?  " 

Swithin,  somehow,  felt  relieved  to  hear  that  the  Bishop 
was  not  a  perfect  man. 

"  His  poor  wife,  I  fear,  had  not  a  great  deal  more 
happiness  with  him  than  with  her  first  husband.  But 
one  might  almost  have  foreseen  it:  the  marriage  was  hasty, 
— the  icsult  of  a  red-hot  caprice,  hardly  becoming  to  a 
min  in  his  position;  and  it  betokened  a  want  of  tem- 
perate discretion  which  .soon  showed  itself  in  other  ways. 
That's  all  there  was  to  be  said  against  him;  and  now  it's 
all  over,  and  things  have  settled  again  into  their  old  course. 
But  Lady  Helmsdale  is  not  Lady  Constantine.  No;  put 
it  as  you  will,  she  is  not  the  .same.  There  seems  to  be 
a  nameless  .something  on  her  mind,  a  trouble,  a  rooted 
melancholy,  which  no  man's  ministry  can  reach.  Formerly 
>he  was  a  woman  whose  confidence  it  was  easy  to  gain; 
:)ut  neither  religion  nor  philosophy  avails  with  her  now. 
iJevond  that,  her  life  is  strangely  like  what  it  was  when 
\iiu  were  with  us." 

Conversing  thus  they  pursued  the  turnpike  road,  till 
iheir  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  crying  voice  on 
their  left.  They  looked,  and  perceived  that  a  child,  iq 
getting  over  an  adjoining  stile,  had  fallen  on  his  face. 


$Sb  TJFO    OAT  A    TOWER. 

Mr.  Torkingham  and  Swithin  both  hastened  up  to  helj: 
the  sufferer,  who  was  a  lovely  little  fellow  with  flaxen  hair, 
which  spread  out  in  a  frill  of  curls  from  beneath  a  quaint 
close-fitting  velvet  cap  that  he  wore.  Swithin  picked  hirr 
up,  while  Mr.  Torkingham  wiped  the  sand  from  his  lii> 
and  nose,  and  administered  a  few  words  of  consolation 
together  with  a  few  sweetmeats,  which,  somewhat  to  Swith- 
in's  surprise,  the  parson  produced  as  if  by  magic  from  his 
pocket.  One  half  the  comfort  rendered  would  have  sufficed 
to  soothe  such  a  disposition  as  the  child's;  he  ceased  cry- 
ing, and  ran  away  in  delight  to  his  unconscious  nurse, 
who  was  reaching  up  for  blackberries  at  a  hedge  some 
wa}'  off. 

"You  know  who  he  i.s,  of  course,"  said  ]Mr.  Torking- 
ham, as  they  resumed  their  journey. 

"No,"  said  Swithin. 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  did.  Yet  how  should  you  .^  It 
is  Lady  Helmsdale's  bo}',  her  only  child.  His  fond  mother 
little  thinks  he  is  so  far  awav  from  home." 

"Dear  me — Lady  Helmsdale's — ah — how  interesting!" 
Swithin  paused  abstractedly  for  a  moment;  then  stepped 
back  again  to  the  stile,  where  he  stood  watching  the  little 
boy  out  of  sight. 

"I  can  never  venture  out-of-doors  now  without  sweetj 
in  my  pocket,"  continued  the  good-natured  vicar;  "and 
the  result  is  that  I  meet  that  young  man  more  frequeiitl) 
than  any  other  of  my  parishioners. " 

St.  Cleeve  was  silent,  and  they  turned  into  V.'elland 
Lane,  where  their  paths  presently  diverged,  and  Swithin 
was  left  to  pursue  his  way  alone.  He  might  have  accc)m- 
panied  the  vicar  yet  further,  and  gone  straight  to  Weiland 


nVO    ON  A    TOWER.  357 

House;  but,  it  would  liave  been  difficult  to  do  so  then 
without  provoking  inquiry.  It  was  easy  to  go  there  now: 
by  a  cross-path  he  could  be  at  the  mansion  almost  as  soon 
as  by  the  direct  road.  And  yet  Swithin  did  not  turn;  he  felt 
an  indescribable  reluctance  to  see  Viviette.  He  could  not 
exactly  say  why.  i\Ioreover,  before  he  knew  how  the  land 
lay,  it  might  be  awkward  to  attempt  to  call;  and  this  was 
a  sufficient  excuse  for  postponement. 

In  this  mood  he  went  on,  following  the  direct  way  to 
his  grandmother's  homestead.  He  reached  the  garden 
gate,  and,  looking  into  the  boskv  basin  in  which  the  old 
house  stood,  saw  a  graceful  female  form,  moving  before  the 
porch,  bidding  adieu  to  some  one  within  the  door. 

He  wondered  what  creature  of  that  mold  his  grand- 
mother could  know,  and  went  forward  with  some  hesita- 
tion. At  his  approach  the  apparition  turned,  and  he  be- 
held, developed  into  blushing  womanhood,  one  who  had 
once  been  known  to  him  as  the  village  maiden,  Tabitha 
Lirk.  Seeing  Swithin,  and  apparently  from  an  instinct 
tliat  her  presence  would  not  be  desirable  just  tlien,  she 
moved  quickly  round  into  the  garden. 

The  returned  astronomer  entered  the  house,  where  he 
found  awaiting  him  poor  old  Mrs.  Martin,  to  whose  earthly 
course  death  stood  rather  as  the  asymptote  than  as  the  end 
She  was  perceptibly  smaller  in  form  than  when  he  had  left 
her,  and  she  could  see  less  distinctly.  A  rather  affecting 
greeting  followed,  in  which  his  grandmother  murmured 
the  words  of  Israel:  "Now  let  me  die,  since  1  have  seen 
tiiy  face,  because  thoii  art  yet  alive." 

The  form  of  Hai7nah  had  disappeared  from  the  kitchen, 
that  ancient  servant  having  been  gathered  to  her  fathers 


358  TIFO    ON  A    TOWER. 

about  six  months  before,  her  place  being  filled  by  a  young 
girl,  who  knew  not  Joseph. 

They  presently  chatted  with  much   cheerfulness,   and 
his  grandmother  said,   "Have  you  heard  what  a  wonderful 
young  woman   IMiss   Lark   has   become  ? — a  mere   fleet 
footed,  slittering  maid  when  you  were  last  home." 

St.  Clee\e  had  not  heard,  but  he  had  partly  seen,  and 
he  was  informed  that  Tabitha  had  left  Welland  shortly 
after  his  own  departure,  and  had  studied  music  with  great 
success  in  London,  where  she  had  resided  ever  since  till 
quite  recently;  that  she  played  at  concerts,  at  oratorios; 
that  she  had,  in  short,  joined  the  phalanx  of  wonderful 
women  who  have  sternly  resolved  to  eclipse  masculine 
genius  altogether,  and  humiliate  the  brutal  sex  to  the 
dust. 

"She  is  only  in  the  garden,"  added  his  grandmother. 
"Why  don't  ye  go  out  and  speak  to  her  .^ " 

Swithin  was  nothing  loath,  and  strolled  out  under  the 
apple-trees,  where  he  arrived  just  in  time  to  prevent  Miss 
Lark  from  going  off  by  the  back  gate.  There  was  not 
much  difficulty  in  breaking  ice  between  them,  and  they 
began  to  chat  with  vivacity. 

Now  all  these  proceedings  occupied  time,  for  somehow 
it  was  very  charming  to  talk  to  Miss  Lark;  and  by  degree? 
St.  Cleeve  told  Tabidia  of  his  great  undertaking,  and  of 
the  voluminous  notes  he  had  amassed,  which  would  re 
quire  so  much  rearrangement  and  recopying  by  an  aman- 
uensis as  to  absolutely  appall  him.  He  greatly  feared  he 
should  not  get  one  careful  enough  for  such  scientific  mat- 
ter,— whereupon  Tabitha  said  she  would  be  delighted  to 
do  it  for  him.     Then,  blushing,  and  declaring  suddenly 


TIVO    ON  A    TOWER.  359 

that  it  had  grown  quite  late,  she  left  him  and  the  garden 
for  her  relation's  house,  hard  bv. 

Swiihin,  no  less  than  Tabitha,  had  been  surprised  by 
the  disappearance  of  the  sun  behind  the  hill;  and  the  ques- 
tion now  arose  whether  it  would  be  advisable  to  call  upon 
Viviette  that  night.  There  was  little  doubt  that  she  knew 
Df  his  coming,  but  more  than  that  he  could  not  predicate 
and  being  entirely  ignorant  of  whom  she  had  around  her, 
entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  her  present  feelings  towards  him, 
he  thought  it  would  be  better  to  defer  his  visit  until  the 
next  day. 

Walking  round  to  the  front  of  the  house,  he  beheld  the 
well-known  agriculturists,  Hezzy  Biles,  Haymoss  Fry,  and 
some  others  of  the  same  old  school,  passing  the  garden 
gate  homeward  from  their  work,  with  bundles  of  wood 
upon  their  backs.  Swithin  saluted  them  over  the  top- 
rail. 

"Well!  do  my  eyes  and  ears" — began  Hezzy;  and 
then,  with  a  smile  almost  as  wide  as  the  gate,  and  balanc- 
ing his  fagot  on  end  against  the  hedge,  he  came  forward, 
the  others  following. 

"Says  I  to  myself,  as  soon  as  I  heerd  his  voice,"  Hezzy 
continued  (addressing  Swithin  as  if  he  were  a  disinterested 
spectator,  and  not  himself),  "Please  God  I'll  pitch  my 
nitch,  and  go  across  and  speak  to  en." 

"  I  knowed  in  a  winking  'twas  some  great  navigator  that 
I  see  a  standing  there,"  said  Haymoss.  "But  whe'r  'twere 
a  sort  of  nabt)b,  or  a  diment-digger,  or  a  lion-hunter,  1 
couldn't  so  much  as  guess  till  I  heerd  en  spak. " 

' '  And  what  changes  have  come  over  WeJ.land  since  \ 
was  last  at  honie  ? "  asked  Swithin. 


360  TIVO    ON   A     TOWER. 

"Well,  Mr.  Sail  Cleeve,"  Hezzy  replied,  "when  you've 
said  that  a  few  stripling  boys  and  maidens  have  busted  into 
blooth,  and  a  few  married  women  have  plimmed  and 
chimped  (my  lady  among  'em),  why,  you've  said  anighst 
all,  Mr.  San  Cleeve." 

The  conversation  thus  begun  was  continued  on  diver«. 
matters,  till  they  were  all  enveloped  in  total  darkness,  when 
his  old  acquaintance  shouldered  their  fagots  again  and  pro- 
ceeded on  their  way. 

Now  that  he  was  actually  within  hei  coasts  again,  Swith- 
in  felt  a  little  more  strongly  the  influence  of  the  past  and 
Viviette  than  he  had  been  accustomed  to  do  for  the  last 
two  or  three  years.  During  the  night  he  felt  half  sorry 
that  he  had  not  marched  off  to  the  great  house  to  see  her, 
regardless  of  the  time  of  day.  If  she  really  nourished  for 
him  any  particle  of  her  old  affection,  it  had  been  the  crud- 
est thing  not  to  call.  A  few  questions  that  he  had  put 
concerning  her  to  his  grandmother  elicited  that  Lady 
Helmsdale  had  no  friends  about  her,  not  even  her  brother, 
and  that  her  health  had  not  been  so  good  since  her  return 
from  Melchester  as  formerly.  Still,  this  proved  nothing 
as  to  the  state  of  her  heart;  and  as  slie  had  kept  a  dead 
silence  since  the  Bishop's  death,  it  was  quite  possible  that 
.she  would  meet  him  with  that  cold,  repressive  tone  and 
manner  which  experienced  women  know  so  well  how  to 
put  on  when  they  wish  to  intimate  to  the  long-lost  lover 
that  old  episodes  arc  to  be  taken  as  forgotten. 

The  next  morning  he  prepared  to  call,  if  only  on  the 
ground  of  old  acquaintance;  for  Swithin  was  too  straight- 
forward to  do  anything  indirectly.  It  was  rather  too  early 
for  this  purpose  when  he  went  out  from  his  grandmother's 


TtVO    ON  A     TOWER.  361 

garden  gale,  after  breakfast,  and  he  waited  in  the  garden 
While  ae  hngered  his  eye  fell  on  the  Rings-Hill  Speer. 
It  appeared  dark,  for  a  moment,  against  the  blue  sky 
behind  it;  then  the  lleeting  cloiul  which  shadowed  it 
passed  on,  and  the  face  of  the  column  brightened  into 
such  luminousness  that  the  sky  behind  sank  to  the  com- 
plexion of  a  dark  foil. 

"Surely  somebody  is  on  the  column,''  he  said  to  him- 
self, after  gazing  at  it  a  while.  , 

Instead  of  going  straight  to  the  great  house,  he  deviated 
through  the  insulating  Held,  now  sown  to  turnips,  which 
surrounded  the  plantation  on  Rings-Hill.  By  the  time 
that  he  plunged  under  the  trees  he  was  still  more  certain 
that  somebody  was  on  the  tower.  He  crept  up  co  the 
base  with  proprietary  curiosity,  for  the  spot  seemed  again 
like  his  own. 

The  path  still  remained  much  as  formerly,  but  the  nook 
in  which  the  cabin  had  stood  was  covered  with  under- 
growth. .Swithin  entered  the  door  of  the  tower,  ascended 
the  staircase  about  half-way  on  tip-toe,  and  listened,  for  he 
(lid  not  wish  to  intrude  on  the  top  if  any  stranger  were  there. 
Tiie  iiollow  spiral,  as  he  knew  from  old  experience,  would 
I):  ing  down  to  his  ears  the  slightest  sound  from  above;  and 
it  now  revealed  to  him  the  vvords  of  a  dialogue  in  progress 
;ii  the  summit  of  the  tower. 

"Mother,  what  shall  I  do?"  a  child's  voice  said.  "Shall 
!  sing.^" 

The  mother  seemed  to  assent,  for  the  child  began: — 

"  The  robin  has  fled  from  the  wood 
To  the  snug  habitation  of  tnan," 


362  TIVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

This  performance  apparently  attracted  but  little  attention 
from  the  child's  companion,  for  the  young  voice  suggested, 
as  a  new  form  of  entertainment,   "Shall  I  say  my  prayers?" 

"  Yes,''  replied  one  whom  Swithin  had  begun  to  recog- 
nize. 

"Who  shall  I  pray  for?" 

No  answer. 

"Who  shall  I  pray  for?" 

' '  Pray  for  father. " 

' '  But  he  is  gone  to  heaven. " 

A  sigh  from  Viviette  was  distinctly  audible. 

"  You  made  a  mistake,  didn't  you  ?  "  continued  the  lit- 
tle one. 

"  I  must  have, — the  strangest  mistake  a  woman  ever 
made  !  " 

Nothing  more  was  said,  and  Swithin  ascended,  words 
from  above  indicating  that  his  footsteps  were  heard.  In 
another  half  minute  he  rose  through  the  hatchway.  A  lady 
in  black  was  sitting  in  the  sun,  and  the  boy  with  the  golden 
hair  whom  he  had  seen  yesterday,  was  at  her  feet. 

"Viviette  !  "  he  said. 

"Swithin  I — at  last !  "  she  cried. 

The  words  died  upon  her  lips,  and  from  very  faintness 
?'ie  bent  her  head.  For  instead  of  rushing  forward  to  her 
he  had  stood  still;  and  there  appeared  upon  his  face  a  look 
which  there  was  no  mistaking. 

.  Yes;  he  was  shocked  at  her  worn  and  faded  aspect.  The 
image  which  he  had  mentally  carried  out  with  him  to  the 
Cape  he  had  brought  home  again  as  that  of  the  woman  he 
was  now  to  rejoin.  But  another  woman  sat  before  him, 
and  not  the  original  Viviette.      Her  cheeks  had  lost  foi 


TJFO    ON  A    TOWER.  363 

ever  that  firm  contour  which  had  been  drawn  by  the  vig- 
orous hand  of  youth,  and  the  masses  of  hair  that  were  once 
darkness  visible  had  become  touched  here  and  there  by  a 
faint  gray  haze,  hke  the  Via  Lactea  in  a  midnight  sky. 

Yet  to  those  who  had  eyes  to  understand,  as  well  as  to 
see,  the  chastened  sweetness  of  her  once  handsome  fea 
tures  revealed  more  promising  material  beneath  than  evci 
her  youth  had  done.  But  Swithin  was  hopelessly  her 
junior.  Unhappily  for  her,  he  had  now  just  arrived  at 
an  age  whose  canon  of  faith  it  is  that  the  silly  period 
of  woman's  life  is  her  only  period  of  beauty.  Viviette 
saw  it  all,  and  knew  that  time  had  at  last  brought  about 
his  revenge.  She  had  tremblingly  watched  and  waited, 
without  sleep,  ever  since  Swithin  had  re-entered  Welland; 
and  it  was  for  this. 

Swithin  came  forward,  and  took  her  by  the  hand,  whicb 
she  passively  allowed  him  to  do. 

"Swathin,  you  don't  love  me,"  she  said,  simply. 

"  Oh,  Viviette  1  " 

"You  don't  love  me,"  she  repeated. 

"Don't  say  it!" 

"Yes,  but  I  will  I  You  have  a  right  not  to  love  me. 
You  did  once.  But  now  I  am  an  old  woman,  and  you 
are  still  a  young  man;  so  how  can  you  love  me.''  I  do 
not  expect  it.  It  is  kind  and  charitable  of  you  to  come 
and  see  me  here. " 

"I  have  come  all  the  way  from  the  Cape,"  he  faltered; 
for  her  insistence  took  all  power  out  of  him  to  deny,  in 
mere  politeness,  what  she  said. 

"Yes,  you  have  come  from  the  Cape;  but  not  for  me," 
she  answ.^red.      "  It  would  be  absuril  if  vou  had  come  f^r 


304  TJVO    ON  A     TOWER. 

me.     You  have  come  because  your  work  there  is  finished 
.   .   .   .      I   like   to   sit   here   with   my   little   boy;   it  is  a 
pleasant  spot.      It  was  once  something  to  us,  was  it  not  ? 
But  that  was  long  ago.      You  scarcely  knew  m,e  for  the 
same  woman,  did  you  }  " 

"  Knew  you  ?     Yes,  of  course  I  knew  you  I  " 

"You  looked  as  if  you  did  not.  But  you  must  not 
be  surprised  at  me.  I  belong  to  an  earlier  generation 
than  you,  remember. " 

Thus,  in  sheer  bitterness  of  spirit  did  she  inflict  wounds 
on  herself  by  exaggerating  the  difference  in  their  years. 
But  she  had,  nevertheless,  spoken  truly.  Sympathize  with 
her  as  he  might,  and  as  he  unquestionably  did,  he  loved 
her  no  longer.  But  why  had  she  expected  otherwise  .-* 
O  woman,  might  a  prophet  have  said  to  her,  great  is 
thy  faith  if  thou  believest  a  junior  lover's  love  will  last 
five  vears ! 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  know  through  your  grandmother 
how  you  are  getting  on,'  she  said  weakly.  "But  now 
— I  would  much  rather  that  we  part.  Yes;  do  not  ques- 
tion me.     I  would  rather  that  we  part.     Good-bye  !  " 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did,  he  touched  her  hand, 
and  obeyed.  He  was  a  scientist,  and  took  words  literally. 
There  is  something  in  the  inexorably  simple  logic  of  such 
men  which  partakes  of  the  cruelty  of  the  natural  laws  that 
are  their  study.  He  entered  the  tower  and  mechanically 
descended  the  steps;  and  it  w-as  not  till  he  got  half-way 
down  that  he  thought  she  could  not  mean  what  she  had 
said. 

Before  leaving  Cape  Town  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
on  this  one  point:  that  if  she  were  willing  to  marrry  him, 


TWO    ON  A     TOWER.  3^5 

marry  her  lie  would,  without,  kt  or  hindrance.  Thai 
much  he  morally  owed  her,  and  lie  was  not  the  man 
to  demur.  And  though  the  Swithin  who  had  returned 
was  not  quite  the  Swithin  who  had  gone  away,  thougii 
he  could  not  now  love  her  with  the  sort  of  love  he  had 
once  bestowed,  he  believed  that  all  her  conduct  had 
been  dictated  by  the  p)urest  benevolence  to  him;  bv  that 
charity  which  " seeketh  not  her  own."  Hence  he  did 
not  flinch  from  a  wish  to  deal  with  loving  kindness  to- 
wards her, — a  sentiment,  perhaps,  in  the  long  run,  more 
to  be  prized  than  lover's  love. 

Her  manner  had  caught  him  unawares;  but  now,  re- 
covering himself,  he  turned  back  determinedly.  Bursting 
out  upon  the  roof,  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed 
her  several  times. 

"Viviette,  Viviette,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  to  marry 
you  I  " 

She  uttered  a  shriek, — a  shriek  of  amazed  joy, — such 
as  never  was  heard  on  that  tower  before  or  since,  and  fell 
in  his  arms,  clasping  his  neck. 

There  she  lay  heavily.  Not  to  disturb  her  he  sat  down 
in  her  seat,  still  holding  her  fast.  The  little  boy,  who 
had  stood  with  round  conjectural  eyes  throughout  the 
meeting,  now  came  close;  and  presently,  looking  up  to 
Swithin,  said,   "  Mother  has  gone  to  sleep." 

Swithin  looked  down  and  started.  Her  tight  clasp  had 
loosened.  A  wave  of  whiteness,  like  that  of  marV'.e  which 
has  never  seen  the  sun,  crept  up  from  her  neck,  and  trav- 
eled upwards  and  onwards  over  her  cheek,  lips,  eyelids, 
forehead,  temples;  its  margin  banishing  back  the  live  pink 
till  the  latter  had  entirely  disappeared. 


366  TWO    ON  A    TOWER. 

The  little  boy  began  to  cry;  but  in  his  concentralicn 
Swithiii  hardly  heard  it.      "Viviette,  Viviette  !  "  he  said. 

The  child  cried  with  still  deeper  grief,  and  pushed  his 
hind  into  Swilhin's  for  protection.  ''Hush,  hush,  my 
child  1  "  said  Swithin  distractedly.  "  I'll  take  care  of  you. 
Oh,  Viviette  I  "  lie  exclaimed  again,  pressing  her  face  to 
his.  But  she  did  not  reply.  "What  can  this  be  .-^ "  he 
asked  himself  He  would  not  then  answer  according  to 
his  fear. 

But  he  had  to  do  so  soon.  Sudden  joy  after  despair 
had  touched  an  overstrained  heart  too  smartlv.  Viviette 
was  dead.     The  Bishop  was  avenged. 


TH£    END. 


9  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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